As news reports broke on Friday about the mass shooting in Aurora, I had several reactions all at once:
At first, why? Why did this dipwad have to go ruining the lives of myriads of people he never met? What motivated him to do this? We will find out more details in the coming days and weeks, and I don't believe it was because he was insane. It was because he was evil.
The second, a general "day-um" and then a prayer for the families who recieved some inevitably bad news that their loved one had died or had been shot in the rampage.
The third, the realization that no one fired back, and in some ways, that's what bothers me the most.
People, what the f has happened to us? We are being conditioned to be sheep, to accept violence done upon us with no answerable recourse other than to call 9-1-1.
F that. I took the time to read through some of the victim's profiles. Some of them died as heroes, taking bullets for loved ones or those they were with and felt a responsibility for. I am sure each of the these dead, would have preferred the option to return fire and answer violence with more violence. When I think of this incident and others, I wish some law abinding citizens were armed and could have returned fire, dropped the mutha-Fbomb, saved lives, and have been done with it. That would be a better story.
Instead, I get to see pictures of a Glock, Carbine, and Remington 870 broadcast all over the news media as if that was the problem, as if I should be horrified. No, f-bomb media, these are things law-abiding citizens who care about their lives, their loved ones, and their country should have in their house or on their person, not be worried about. No, the problem was that this neuro-science Ph D. wannabe knucklehead dipwad maniac did not self-diagnose and go straight to the nearest asylum. Instead of checking himself in, he chose to check out and take down as many people with him as possible.
I am disgusted at how this story is being played and the unspoken (and sometimes spoken, I'm sure) theme is that we as citizens are to accept violence done upon us by evil people with no recourse for our own protection. That people with guns did this. It was the guns man, the guns. It's part of the gradual sheep-i-fication of the society the Left desires.
This was supposed to be a gun-free zone. That did not work out so well, did it?
I also want to point out something else that is ironic in this situation. All these people showed up to see a movie that depicts a hero delivering justice to any and all douchebags on the big screen. Ostensibly, because everyone loves Batman, and with good reason. We empathize with the hero. And we should, but when it comes to real life, to protecting ourselves and our loved ones, so many among us take for granted our personal safety, it's actually kind of appalling.
Oh sure, we can play games and go see movies and pretend happily that we are hero ass-kickers, but when it comes to actually living out one's role as protector of the family, of one's environment, and broadly of the civil society, that, that my friends, is largely not taken seriously. It is ridiculed and then discarded and dismissed as fear-mongering until the next incident comes along.
How many more of these active shooter wannabe douchebags are out there? If the answer is one, it's too many, and I know it's more than that. How do I know that? Simple. I know evil.
Evil does not rest. It will not leave all that is well and good alone. Evil seeks to disrupt, to destroy. You could be a happy, peacefull hippie moefoe, but evil will still squash you and laugh at your demise if it has the chance.
As I study 20th century and prior history, it is more and more apparent to me that evil can never leave anything alone. It is always on the march in some form or another. The only thing that can stop it is good men who are willing to pay the price of enduring and delivering violence to stop it, possibly at the cost of their own lives.
I know a lot of people believe in peace and finding the peaceful path and way to deal with those evil and violence. Those are lofty ideals and should be pursued, but at the end of the day, sometimes it just comes down to brass tacks and brutality to overcome unwanted aggression.
Most people don't like to consider that violence can ever happen to them. It's an uncomfortable thought. My only consolation on the matter is that an armed society is ultimately a polite society, and that we can still choose to be armed and protect ourselves. But it is up to us to create that mentality and urge others to do the same.
God Bless,
--Nick-Dog
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Weaponry
Pics to come, very soon.
Clare and I visited the Smokey Mountains last week and it was quite an adventure, and nearly a continuation of our previous visit to the region last year after Labor Day.
At any rate, we stopped at Smokey Mountain Knife Works on a lark, as we had to change Kieran and I needed to use the restroom. So what better place to do that then a large knife store?
The store was all kinds of awesome, with blades of every kind on all three levels. I could have spent half my day playing with stuff there, but in the 30-40 minutes I had, I came out with a short fixed blade from Bear & Sons that happened to be on sale. It was a good purchase to be sure, but the scabbard did not hold up to hard use. Withing 24 hours I had punctured a hole in it, rendering on-person carry unsafe and undesireable. I will likely purchase another sheath for it and see what happens, but to be honest, carrying a fixed blade on one's side is a bit bulky and uncomfortable. The Glock carried inside the waistband
is much better.
The quality of the knife is better than a China or Pakistan blade in the same range (~$30). I scoured the knife cases for an USA Made blade in this range, and the only thing I came up with was Bear and Sons. Other than the sheath, I am happy with the product.
Our drive through the Smokey Mountains and throughout the area was hella impressive. The Smokeys have something of the feel of legend to them. The main, twisty two-lane roads through the park were pretty much packed, but it was also good to see locals chilling out at the swimming holes and creeks in the park.
In the past I have asked myself when I go to a place if I could or should live there. I have tended to be on the hunt for the perfect spot, but on this trip not so much. My new opinion about things is that no matter where you live, there is a trade off. You can be here, but not there. Visiting places is fun, but starting from scratch somewhere else is not. One also loses any time invested in a previous location when they pick up and move somewhere else, even if it's across town, though that surely is not as radical as across country.
Some people have no choice but to move. Despite my frustrations with my house and the hillbilly code with which it was built, I am content where I am at. My neighbors are generally low-key rugged individualist mountain folk, heavily armed, and overall, good folk. Trying to find another community like that and starting from scratch now makes no sense to me. So unless God kicks me out of here, I guess I'll be in the Olde Dominion for a good long time.
Anyway, I've digressed. The topic of place is one that I like to ponder, so there you have it.
The other new purchase is a new-to-me shot-once-by-the-previous-owner Mossberg 500 8-Shot, set up
to kick ass and take names by the boatload. I ran this gun today and, with the recoil-reducing Knoxx stock, I pretty much made my decision this morning that if I have to walk to the end of the world, this is the gun I'm reaching for. Hands down.
Not that I'm leaving anytime soon, of course, but you get the drift. Smooth. Powerful. Boo-yah!
Pics to come for all you weapon loving fiends.
Over & Out,
--Nick-Dog
Clare and I visited the Smokey Mountains last week and it was quite an adventure, and nearly a continuation of our previous visit to the region last year after Labor Day.
At any rate, we stopped at Smokey Mountain Knife Works on a lark, as we had to change Kieran and I needed to use the restroom. So what better place to do that then a large knife store?
The store was all kinds of awesome, with blades of every kind on all three levels. I could have spent half my day playing with stuff there, but in the 30-40 minutes I had, I came out with a short fixed blade from Bear & Sons that happened to be on sale. It was a good purchase to be sure, but the scabbard did not hold up to hard use. Withing 24 hours I had punctured a hole in it, rendering on-person carry unsafe and undesireable. I will likely purchase another sheath for it and see what happens, but to be honest, carrying a fixed blade on one's side is a bit bulky and uncomfortable. The Glock carried inside the waistband
is much better.
The quality of the knife is better than a China or Pakistan blade in the same range (~$30). I scoured the knife cases for an USA Made blade in this range, and the only thing I came up with was Bear and Sons. Other than the sheath, I am happy with the product.
Our drive through the Smokey Mountains and throughout the area was hella impressive. The Smokeys have something of the feel of legend to them. The main, twisty two-lane roads through the park were pretty much packed, but it was also good to see locals chilling out at the swimming holes and creeks in the park.
In the past I have asked myself when I go to a place if I could or should live there. I have tended to be on the hunt for the perfect spot, but on this trip not so much. My new opinion about things is that no matter where you live, there is a trade off. You can be here, but not there. Visiting places is fun, but starting from scratch somewhere else is not. One also loses any time invested in a previous location when they pick up and move somewhere else, even if it's across town, though that surely is not as radical as across country.
Some people have no choice but to move. Despite my frustrations with my house and the hillbilly code with which it was built, I am content where I am at. My neighbors are generally low-key rugged individualist mountain folk, heavily armed, and overall, good folk. Trying to find another community like that and starting from scratch now makes no sense to me. So unless God kicks me out of here, I guess I'll be in the Olde Dominion for a good long time.
Anyway, I've digressed. The topic of place is one that I like to ponder, so there you have it.
The other new purchase is a new-to-me shot-once-by-the-previous-owner Mossberg 500 8-Shot, set up
to kick ass and take names by the boatload. I ran this gun today and, with the recoil-reducing Knoxx stock, I pretty much made my decision this morning that if I have to walk to the end of the world, this is the gun I'm reaching for. Hands down.
Not that I'm leaving anytime soon, of course, but you get the drift. Smooth. Powerful. Boo-yah!
Pics to come for all you weapon loving fiends.
Over & Out,
--Nick-Dog
Sunday, May 13, 2012
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
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
Sunday, April 22, 2012
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
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
Saturday, March 17, 2012
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
Sunday, March 11, 2012
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
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
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
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
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
Thursday, February 02, 2012
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
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
Monday, January 23, 2012
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
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
Monday, January 02, 2012
Montgomery Co. & Thereabouts
We brought in the new year with some friends who live in Blacksburg, Va. Located three hours south of our permeneant dwelling, it is an entirely different world, ready for exploration. The above picture is of the New River flowing through nearby Giles County, where it enters Virginia from its western counterpart.
We had a nice time in Blacksburg, to be sure, but one of the draws for me are the unfamiliar yet spellbinding mountain patterns down there.
Blacksburg is the home of Va. Tech, and is surrounded by near and far off mountains. The town is elevated on hills which provide glorious views and rolling countryside, but for all practical purposes is mostly quiet, notwithstanding the college football games that draw fans from all over the state.
Some places in our country are very hyped and get a lot of national exposure, but the Blue Ridge and Appalacian Mountain ranges in Va., where they exist on the the Western side of the state and into West Va. rarely recieve what I believe is their proper homage.
It is the locale of rednecks, hillbillies, hikers, and history long-forgottten, according to much of the "common wisdom" that seem to circulate around these parts. The reality, however, is that these lands are largely untarnished and unexplored, and hold the promise of scenic vistas and grand adventure.
Looking at the topographical maps on google after our trip and scenic drive, it is clear that this is an explorers paradise. As I reflect on the coming year and how to spend our time, spending more time waterfalling is becoming part of the plan.
Va. is gorgeous country. Many areas are unsung because of ignorance or normalcy bias. However, as our feet hit the ground throughout 2012, my intention is to make time to investigate some of these far off lands firsthand and see what I've been missing.
To that end, here's to wishing you a grand 2012.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The Year in Review
Well, it's been a quick but eventful year.
The wood floors have been refinished. I've learned to build furniture and have become part of a woodshop, while adding a few pieces to my own home. My kids are a year older. I went on a real vacation and visited Asheville while living in a timber frame house for a few days. I've stood under a waterfall with the love of my life as well as slid down another repeatedly. I finished the drywall in my home's sole bathroom. I've been fortunate to hang out with friends both near and far, and have read a few new books.
I really can't complain.
As winter begins in earnest, I have found that I like to take time to catch my breath and reflect, to take stock of what's been accomplished over the year and what lies ahead. While 2012 will be an epochal year for our country (think elections, not zombies necessarily), I hope it will be prosperous.
Not everyone thinks in terms of new resolutions at this time. They dislike lying to themselves or thinking that just because it's a new year they have to do something. Others know that if there's something that you need to resolve to do, you usually need to do it now, not at some arbitrarilly pre-ordained time, such as Jan. 1. Myself, I am thinking in terms of goals and what I want to accomplish in 2012.
Other than capping a few zombies, whose population seems to be on the rise, I'd like to do the following:
1.) Finish the bathroom (for real)
2.) Run a 5k
3.) Join the woodshop full time
4.) Pay off my installment debt
5.) Design and begin building/prepping for a timber framed addition to my house
Not sure how I am going pull off all these projects, but I think these goals are mostly achievable if I set my mind to it. I don't want to be working on my house forever and have it be an eternal project. I want to get it done and stop screwing around. I have the vision now for it, so the time has come to get to brass tacks and stop screwing around.
Here's looking forward to the run ahead...
Over and Out,
--Nick
The Year in Review
Well, it's been a quick but eventful year.
The wood floors have been refinished. I've learned to build furniture and have become part of a woodshop, while adding a few pieces to my own home. My kids are a year older. I went on a real vacation and visited Asheville while living in a timber frame house for a few days. I've stood under a waterfall with the love of my life as well as slid down another repeatedly. I finished the drywall in my home's sole bathroom. I've been fortunate to hang out with friends both near and far, and have read a few new books.
I really can't complain.
As winter begins in earnest, I have found that I like to take time to catch my breath and reflect, to take stock of what's been accomplished over the year and what lies ahead. While 2012 will be an epochal year for our country (think elections, not zombies necessarily), I hope it will be prosperous.
Not everyone thinks in terms of new resolutions at this time. They dislike lying to themselves or thinking that just because it's a new year they have to do something. Others know that if there's something that you need to resolve to do, you usually need to do it now, not at some arbitrarilly pre-ordained time, such as Jan. 1.
Myself, I am thinking in terms of goals and what I want to accomplish in 2012. Other than capping a few zombies, whose population seems to be on the rise, I'd like to do the following:
1.) Finish the bathroom (for real)
2.) Run a 5k
3.) Join the woodshop full time
4.) Pay off my installment debt
5.) Design and begin building/prepping for a timber framed addition to my house
Not sure how I am going pull off all these projects, but I think these goals are mostly achievable if I set my mind to it. I don't want to be working on my house forever and have it be an eternal project. I want to get it done and stop screwing around. I have the vision now for it, so the time has come to get to brass tacks and stop screwing around.
Here's looking forward to the run ahead...
Over and Out,
--Nick
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Back in Munster and Thereabouts
Well, we had a bodacious trip to the midwest, and it was with some sadness to that the time had come to leave.
Monday night we left the homestead to acquire the necessary fuel for our trip, consisting of a bit of 87 Octane and a venti mocha from Starschmuck's. Through intermittent and dense fog, I guided the van through the night betwixt high mountain passes, stopping only to visit the privy and salute West Virginia for its architecturally attractive and squeaky-clean rest stop high atop the scenic ridges along I-68.
We made it to Indiana that morning, catching a few zzz's east of Indianapolis, before arriving at our first stop, the Schap residence. Our time there was too short, but consisted of good laughs, socializing, late night/early morning walks through the Old Town, not to mention a fine pipe smoke and brew from Lafayette's hometown brewery, courtesy of one M. Schap. We couldn't have asked for better hosts and were happy to see them in high spirits.
Arriving in Lake County is always a bit surreal for me, and I kinda turn into a different person. It must be an element in the air from the steel mills' smoke stacks or something, but my usual giddiness returned when the wheels of our van crossed over the county line and finally into Munster early that afternoon. Our family joined my parents for our now customary trip to Cabela's, where I stocked up on shirts. A fly rod also made it's way into my cart and some cool older dude gave me a $10 off coupon at the register since he couldn't use it. I hope to put the rod into action in the near future and acquire a taste for the local Brook Trout that gets stocked around here.
After a tasty and very satisfying trip to Sanfratello's in Glenwood, IL, my first hometown, I met up with Tim D. and his brother at Three Floyds in Munster. We waited 45 minutes outside for our seat and fought the chill with an endless supply of hometown hilarity. Finally, after many visits to the brewery, I obtained and quaffed some Calumet Queen and their brash hefe-weizen, Drunk Monk. Tim and I departed to the pool hall, Johnny's Tap, and finally Munster Donut to relive old times before retiring at 3am.
Turkey Day was a blur, after waking and visiting my dad's work, where I acquired an olde jointer, and then crashing for a few hours at my parents, I woke up to the arrival of the rest of my family, who I had not seen in over a year. The food was great and everyone had lots to say regarding their political feelings. I abstained from speaking to much and establishing whole-scale assualts, not only to preserve what semblance of familial feeling I have left, but also to see what and how others in the region are thinking. I also enjoyed some wine from Von Jakob in Southern Illinois.
Friday began with breakfast at hallowed ground, The Commander on Ridge Road. The fare was delicious, as usual, and wholly pleasing the palate. Afterwards, Clare and I visited my wonderful Aunt Marsha, while simultaneously acquiring her son Tim to join us for the day in Chicago. Before we left, Aunt Marsha treated us to Kreshiki's--my favorite polish pastry, but one that I had not had in half a decade.
Our itinerary first delivered us to Intelligensia on Broadway and then back into the loop to the dock at 1 N. Dearborn. Bobby, Tim's brother, generously gave us his parking space, where he worked, to allow us to visit the Christkindl Market across the street, and then Macy's, for free. After working up an appetite by waxing philosophical Tim steered us to one of his old haunts for lunch in Little Italy, Pompei Bakery. Established in 1909, I believe, Pompei has been serving up world class lasagna and other treats for a long, long time. This was the first time I made a visit, but it definitely won't be the last.
After another cup of Intelligensia, we sped home under the cover of darkness and dropped Tim off, before arriving at my parents for leftovers. Stuffed, I had a token piece of Turkey and watched the Black Hawks with my dad achieve victory over the L.A. Kings.
Saturday brought us back to Chicago, after a home cooked breakfast at my parents'. We were given complimentary tickets to the Museum of Science and Industry from one of my mom's friends. While the place was loco, we did get to see the model ships, U-505, the circus and riddle section as well as the fairy castle and Yesterday's Mainstreet.
Leaving the Museum we then ventured to Lincoln Park zoo after getting some smoothies in the rain at Jamba Juice. The zoo was awesome--we had it all to ourselves because of the weather. At nightfall, the zoo lit up into a Christmas wonderland that was definitely magical amidst the big city and was but another classic experience there and example of the city of doing things right when it comes to having class and putting on a good show.
We went home, sad that this was our last day in the city, but our frowns were turned into smiles when we met my parent's at Eduardo's in Munster for some sumptuous deep dish.
The next morning we awoke for 10 AM mass at the Discalced Carmelite Monastery in Munster, IN. That place just makes you want to be holy, and afterwards we joined my sister's family for breakfast at one of the many divey Greek-restaurants nearby.
We took the rest of the day to get ourselves together before going out for a last supper at a new Mexican restaurant. In the morning, we quickly bid our adieus, snagged some Munster Donuts and coffee and began the trek to Youngstown, Ohio, where we met up with my friend's Jason's dad and had a look at some 100-year-old wood he wants hauled off. We stayed at the Fairfield Marriot in Poland, watching Pawn Stars and Picking Pickers or whatever into the night before heading home the next day.
All in all it was a good trip. Most of my trips blend together, so I wanted to put events down in writing so I can refer back to them from time to time and reminisce when I have the chance. It was certainly very fun and enlivining to be back in the region, especially at this time of year when people are feeling nostalgic about their hometown (as regards to the movie "A Christmas Story"). It was good to reconnect and see friends and family and remember home.
But it was good to get back into the mountains and check back into the hollar, too.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Monday night we left the homestead to acquire the necessary fuel for our trip, consisting of a bit of 87 Octane and a venti mocha from Starschmuck's. Through intermittent and dense fog, I guided the van through the night betwixt high mountain passes, stopping only to visit the privy and salute West Virginia for its architecturally attractive and squeaky-clean rest stop high atop the scenic ridges along I-68.
We made it to Indiana that morning, catching a few zzz's east of Indianapolis, before arriving at our first stop, the Schap residence. Our time there was too short, but consisted of good laughs, socializing, late night/early morning walks through the Old Town, not to mention a fine pipe smoke and brew from Lafayette's hometown brewery, courtesy of one M. Schap. We couldn't have asked for better hosts and were happy to see them in high spirits.
Arriving in Lake County is always a bit surreal for me, and I kinda turn into a different person. It must be an element in the air from the steel mills' smoke stacks or something, but my usual giddiness returned when the wheels of our van crossed over the county line and finally into Munster early that afternoon. Our family joined my parents for our now customary trip to Cabela's, where I stocked up on shirts. A fly rod also made it's way into my cart and some cool older dude gave me a $10 off coupon at the register since he couldn't use it. I hope to put the rod into action in the near future and acquire a taste for the local Brook Trout that gets stocked around here.
After a tasty and very satisfying trip to Sanfratello's in Glenwood, IL, my first hometown, I met up with Tim D. and his brother at Three Floyds in Munster. We waited 45 minutes outside for our seat and fought the chill with an endless supply of hometown hilarity. Finally, after many visits to the brewery, I obtained and quaffed some Calumet Queen and their brash hefe-weizen, Drunk Monk. Tim and I departed to the pool hall, Johnny's Tap, and finally Munster Donut to relive old times before retiring at 3am.
Turkey Day was a blur, after waking and visiting my dad's work, where I acquired an olde jointer, and then crashing for a few hours at my parents, I woke up to the arrival of the rest of my family, who I had not seen in over a year. The food was great and everyone had lots to say regarding their political feelings. I abstained from speaking to much and establishing whole-scale assualts, not only to preserve what semblance of familial feeling I have left, but also to see what and how others in the region are thinking. I also enjoyed some wine from Von Jakob in Southern Illinois.
Friday began with breakfast at hallowed ground, The Commander on Ridge Road. The fare was delicious, as usual, and wholly pleasing the palate. Afterwards, Clare and I visited my wonderful Aunt Marsha, while simultaneously acquiring her son Tim to join us for the day in Chicago. Before we left, Aunt Marsha treated us to Kreshiki's--my favorite polish pastry, but one that I had not had in half a decade.
Our itinerary first delivered us to Intelligensia on Broadway and then back into the loop to the dock at 1 N. Dearborn. Bobby, Tim's brother, generously gave us his parking space, where he worked, to allow us to visit the Christkindl Market across the street, and then Macy's, for free. After working up an appetite by waxing philosophical Tim steered us to one of his old haunts for lunch in Little Italy, Pompei Bakery. Established in 1909, I believe, Pompei has been serving up world class lasagna and other treats for a long, long time. This was the first time I made a visit, but it definitely won't be the last.
After another cup of Intelligensia, we sped home under the cover of darkness and dropped Tim off, before arriving at my parents for leftovers. Stuffed, I had a token piece of Turkey and watched the Black Hawks with my dad achieve victory over the L.A. Kings.
Saturday brought us back to Chicago, after a home cooked breakfast at my parents'. We were given complimentary tickets to the Museum of Science and Industry from one of my mom's friends. While the place was loco, we did get to see the model ships, U-505, the circus and riddle section as well as the fairy castle and Yesterday's Mainstreet.
Leaving the Museum we then ventured to Lincoln Park zoo after getting some smoothies in the rain at Jamba Juice. The zoo was awesome--we had it all to ourselves because of the weather. At nightfall, the zoo lit up into a Christmas wonderland that was definitely magical amidst the big city and was but another classic experience there and example of the city of doing things right when it comes to having class and putting on a good show.
We went home, sad that this was our last day in the city, but our frowns were turned into smiles when we met my parent's at Eduardo's in Munster for some sumptuous deep dish.
The next morning we awoke for 10 AM mass at the Discalced Carmelite Monastery in Munster, IN. That place just makes you want to be holy, and afterwards we joined my sister's family for breakfast at one of the many divey Greek-restaurants nearby.
We took the rest of the day to get ourselves together before going out for a last supper at a new Mexican restaurant. In the morning, we quickly bid our adieus, snagged some Munster Donuts and coffee and began the trek to Youngstown, Ohio, where we met up with my friend's Jason's dad and had a look at some 100-year-old wood he wants hauled off. We stayed at the Fairfield Marriot in Poland, watching Pawn Stars and Picking Pickers or whatever into the night before heading home the next day.
All in all it was a good trip. Most of my trips blend together, so I wanted to put events down in writing so I can refer back to them from time to time and reminisce when I have the chance. It was certainly very fun and enlivining to be back in the region, especially at this time of year when people are feeling nostalgic about their hometown (as regards to the movie "A Christmas Story"). It was good to reconnect and see friends and family and remember home.
But it was good to get back into the mountains and check back into the hollar, too.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Shenandoah Fall & Stuff
This has been one of the prettiest Fall seasons I can remember here in Va. The leaves in the mountains are nearly finished with their magnificent display of color, while the forests at work, this past week, have been at their peak. In a sense, it has been like being treated to two distinctly different Falls on my daily commute, but I see no reason to complain.
The crisp weather and winds that have swept through here, sans rain for the most part, have been perfect for reflection, on the season, the year, and the days ahead. Below, are a couple of my ruminations and plans, going forward as I look ahead to the winter and first months of 2012.
Wood: We have made even progress through our wood pile this past two months. Because the weather has been so cooperative, and also because my wood pile has been seasoned, I am getting more bang for the buck with the stove. On hand, I have a significant amount of seasoned locust and red oak, not to mention a massive pile of white oak, waiting to be sawn. Our freak snow storm from two weeks ago took down enough branches to supply me for kindling for 3 seasons. It was ridiculous. They have been piled high to be allowed to dry out.
Tax Season: This Tax season can't come soon enough, for me at least. I've been looking forward to it immensely. I have a number of projects and things that need to be finished around here with the extra cash, that will hopefully bring us to the next phase of life in the holler--expansion. But first, I would like to see a perimeter fence installed along our property line, to allow both our kids and our (other) animals some defined space. Secondly, it is high time we purchase a well hand-pump for emergency purposes.
Weaponry & Supplies: In addition, adding a red dot and a few other accouterments to the AR, as well as another batch of 5.56, 9mm, 00BK, and new Glock mags to the cache, and rounding out the first aid supplies and larder are on the list. Along with knocking out a debt or two, I think we will be as well situated as possible to face the tumultuous seas that will surely spill onto our shores and envelope humanity during the zombie 2012 apocolypse.
Bail-Out Bag: I've ditched my formless Jack Bauer wannabe bag for EDC in favor of an affordable attache, aka "Bail-Out Bag" from L.A. Police Gear. For the price. S29.99+shipping ($42 total), I am hella impressed. There is a pocket for everything and more, and I can always find my shit. It's easy and pleasurable to stay organized with this thing, which when you are in a hurry or bad situation, is key. No rummaging through your bag for the hatchet--it's right there!
The new bag comes with two pistol concealment compartments on each side, making bag carry less of a hassle for those times one is so inclined. Combined with a 3-day pack from L.A. Police Gear--my over night bag, if you will--I feel well-poised to cover most of my bases where gear is concerned.
Gear in General: Over all, I have found the most workable scenario, at this point is a 3 tiered approach: 1) What you have on you; 2.) What you carry with you, in the building and leave while you wander about (as my job demands while I am at work); and 3.) Essential supplies in your base of operation (vehicle) to help get you to home base in case of an emergency. These 3 tiers seem to work well with one another, and having a functional bags makes it that much smoother and better.
Ok, I am about to crash. Good night.
--Nick-Dog
The crisp weather and winds that have swept through here, sans rain for the most part, have been perfect for reflection, on the season, the year, and the days ahead. Below, are a couple of my ruminations and plans, going forward as I look ahead to the winter and first months of 2012.
Wood: We have made even progress through our wood pile this past two months. Because the weather has been so cooperative, and also because my wood pile has been seasoned, I am getting more bang for the buck with the stove. On hand, I have a significant amount of seasoned locust and red oak, not to mention a massive pile of white oak, waiting to be sawn. Our freak snow storm from two weeks ago took down enough branches to supply me for kindling for 3 seasons. It was ridiculous. They have been piled high to be allowed to dry out.
Tax Season: This Tax season can't come soon enough, for me at least. I've been looking forward to it immensely. I have a number of projects and things that need to be finished around here with the extra cash, that will hopefully bring us to the next phase of life in the holler--expansion. But first, I would like to see a perimeter fence installed along our property line, to allow both our kids and our (other) animals some defined space. Secondly, it is high time we purchase a well hand-pump for emergency purposes.
Weaponry & Supplies: In addition, adding a red dot and a few other accouterments to the AR, as well as another batch of 5.56, 9mm, 00BK, and new Glock mags to the cache, and rounding out the first aid supplies and larder are on the list. Along with knocking out a debt or two, I think we will be as well situated as possible to face the tumultuous seas that will surely spill onto our shores and envelope humanity during the zombie 2012 apocolypse.
Bail-Out Bag: I've ditched my formless Jack Bauer wannabe bag for EDC in favor of an affordable attache, aka "Bail-Out Bag" from L.A. Police Gear. For the price. S29.99+shipping ($42 total), I am hella impressed. There is a pocket for everything and more, and I can always find my shit. It's easy and pleasurable to stay organized with this thing, which when you are in a hurry or bad situation, is key. No rummaging through your bag for the hatchet--it's right there!
The new bag comes with two pistol concealment compartments on each side, making bag carry less of a hassle for those times one is so inclined. Combined with a 3-day pack from L.A. Police Gear--my over night bag, if you will--I feel well-poised to cover most of my bases where gear is concerned.
Gear in General: Over all, I have found the most workable scenario, at this point is a 3 tiered approach: 1) What you have on you; 2.) What you carry with you, in the building and leave while you wander about (as my job demands while I am at work); and 3.) Essential supplies in your base of operation (vehicle) to help get you to home base in case of an emergency. These 3 tiers seem to work well with one another, and having a functional bags makes it that much smoother and better.
Ok, I am about to crash. Good night.
--Nick-Dog
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
To Catch a Thief...
We got him.
Today, while at work, sitting at my desk near the front entrance, I heard the cover plate to the collection box clang to the floor. I knew something was amiss, and before I knew what I was doing I was up out of my chair chasing after an 18-year-old thief. When he saw me and I shouted "Stop! Thief!" he sped up, booking it through Mary's Garden down our main driveway towards the neighborhood.
Luckily for me, Melvin, my assistant, is always looking for a fight, and he was quick on his feet and engaged him immediately, when I yelled, "Stop him, Melvin! He's a thief!"
Melvin was painting the entrance gate, and saw this fool and me chasing him. The thief had a pair of scissors in his hand, which he used to pry open the poor box, and made it past Melvin, who then engaged in pursuit. Melvin, who is wicked fast, gave chase, even though his shoe fell off. He continued nonetheless, all while talking shit to the kid.
Seeing this and that I was being outpaced, I turned around, ran to the van, picking up my phone that I had dropped on the way, and sped off into the neighborhood to find the would-be thief pinned to the ground with Melvin on top of him, talking--no, yelling--at the punk. I called 911, the cops arrived shortly, we filled out our statements, the cops thanked us for getting this dip, and the vagabond left in cuffs.
LESSONS LEARNED
1.) I have played previously this scenario over in my head several times. "What if ?" Now I know, what if. You can have a plan for what you will do, but in the end you act on instinct.
2.) I need to run regularly. I lost my breath quickly. Too quickly. If it wasn't for Melvin chasing this bastage down, we may not have found him.
3.) Stealth. Hindsight is 20-20. My approach worked, but if I had just booked it from my office without shouting anything, I may have prevented this dude from furthering his adrenaline rush and speeding up. I did succeed, however, in driving him out directly, giving chase and alerting Melvin in the process. In retrospect, I could have taken a different exit and possibly cut this kid off, with him least expecting it.
4.) All my EDC tools flew from my pouch while I was in pursuit. Time for a new pouch.
5.) Win the psychological battle. This kid was not tackled. He was talked into submission after being cornered and ordered to the ground. He knew he had done wrong, and is lucky it went so well for him. His conscience worked against him and so he eventually listened to us. We were lucky as well. Not every thug is so obedient.
6.) Bystanders. People are unprepared for conflict. People were outside. County construction workers witnessed the chase. Everyone simply watched, mesmerized something was happening.
7.) Mentally, I was in the game, but my physical condition sucked and deteriorated way too fast in the adrenaline dump.
8.) It would have been helpful to stretch this morning, have been wearing running shoes instead of steel toe work boots.
9.) Adreniline changes everything and puts you on a different mental plane. Fight or flight. In this case, sheer overwhelming verbal violence/force frightened the thief into submission.
10.) Murphy's Law Rules. I damn near twisted my foot running through this garden. This kid ran right into Melvin's path. Melvin's shoe fell off. The kid gave up relatively easily. Etc. Etc. In a live situation, things happen that we just can't forsee, though we have to be prepared for it as best as we can.
Stay safe out there. Be prepared.
Some days the dragon wins, but on other days you catch the thief under the best of circumstances.
This was that day.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Today, while at work, sitting at my desk near the front entrance, I heard the cover plate to the collection box clang to the floor. I knew something was amiss, and before I knew what I was doing I was up out of my chair chasing after an 18-year-old thief. When he saw me and I shouted "Stop! Thief!" he sped up, booking it through Mary's Garden down our main driveway towards the neighborhood.
Luckily for me, Melvin, my assistant, is always looking for a fight, and he was quick on his feet and engaged him immediately, when I yelled, "Stop him, Melvin! He's a thief!"
Melvin was painting the entrance gate, and saw this fool and me chasing him. The thief had a pair of scissors in his hand, which he used to pry open the poor box, and made it past Melvin, who then engaged in pursuit. Melvin, who is wicked fast, gave chase, even though his shoe fell off. He continued nonetheless, all while talking shit to the kid.
Seeing this and that I was being outpaced, I turned around, ran to the van, picking up my phone that I had dropped on the way, and sped off into the neighborhood to find the would-be thief pinned to the ground with Melvin on top of him, talking--no, yelling--at the punk. I called 911, the cops arrived shortly, we filled out our statements, the cops thanked us for getting this dip, and the vagabond left in cuffs.
LESSONS LEARNED
1.) I have played previously this scenario over in my head several times. "What if ?" Now I know, what if. You can have a plan for what you will do, but in the end you act on instinct.
2.) I need to run regularly. I lost my breath quickly. Too quickly. If it wasn't for Melvin chasing this bastage down, we may not have found him.
3.) Stealth. Hindsight is 20-20. My approach worked, but if I had just booked it from my office without shouting anything, I may have prevented this dude from furthering his adrenaline rush and speeding up. I did succeed, however, in driving him out directly, giving chase and alerting Melvin in the process. In retrospect, I could have taken a different exit and possibly cut this kid off, with him least expecting it.
4.) All my EDC tools flew from my pouch while I was in pursuit. Time for a new pouch.
5.) Win the psychological battle. This kid was not tackled. He was talked into submission after being cornered and ordered to the ground. He knew he had done wrong, and is lucky it went so well for him. His conscience worked against him and so he eventually listened to us. We were lucky as well. Not every thug is so obedient.
6.) Bystanders. People are unprepared for conflict. People were outside. County construction workers witnessed the chase. Everyone simply watched, mesmerized something was happening.
7.) Mentally, I was in the game, but my physical condition sucked and deteriorated way too fast in the adrenaline dump.
8.) It would have been helpful to stretch this morning, have been wearing running shoes instead of steel toe work boots.
9.) Adreniline changes everything and puts you on a different mental plane. Fight or flight. In this case, sheer overwhelming verbal violence/force frightened the thief into submission.
10.) Murphy's Law Rules. I damn near twisted my foot running through this garden. This kid ran right into Melvin's path. Melvin's shoe fell off. The kid gave up relatively easily. Etc. Etc. In a live situation, things happen that we just can't forsee, though we have to be prepared for it as best as we can.
Stay safe out there. Be prepared.
Some days the dragon wins, but on other days you catch the thief under the best of circumstances.
This was that day.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Monday, October 17, 2011
Varied Horizons
I have a lot to say, having been away from the Blog for a bit. So I'll just get right into it.
Today, we made the trip back out to Lost River State Park in West Va., easily one of the nicest and most serene forests I've visited. The fall colors scintillated in the sunlight from underneath the vast canopy, while the creek that runs through the park chortled with vitality and strength from the recent rains.
As always, our trip here feels much needed, almost like a pilgrimage. When we find ourselves there, we have this place to ourselves on the whole. The other visitors we come across are usually a joyful lot. picnicking or partying under a pavilion with their families. The park ranger was cool too, not to mention that he was fortunate to carry a Glock on his hip as part of his duties.
Visiting Lost River allows one to forget the world and assess it properly, to refocus and breathe anew. Far from the smelly jackasses on Occupy Wall Street who continue to foment revolution, out here in the sticks the seasons continue their natural cycle, heedless of the Left and their ilk.
Indeed, the world is spinning out of control. It remains to be seen if Europe will manage to find another temporary fix for its financial woes and whether the United States' own standard of living will immediately plummet. Regardless of whatever else we face, I am in agreement with Jack Spirko: an economic Depression is coming and that it is now unavoidable.
Reading Clare's ancestral histories of late has provided a clear insight on how her forefathers weathered the Depression and the years that preceded it. Several things stand out. Though poor, they were excellent farmers, who made farming a near art-form by way of hard work and a strong cultural pride. While others wanted, they never starved. They worked like beasts, wasted nothing, and built their lives from scratch, sharing in a strong local community.
Did I mention that they did not have any electricity or indoor plumbing until the mid-40s, or that the first tractor was purchased in 1948, replacing their mule-driven plow?
In our own day farming and even small scale gardening is a ton of hard work, which requires a great deal of follow through and commitment. Community rises out of necessity. Innovation and self-sufficiency require determination and imagination. Opportunities have to be seen for what they are and seized.
What am I getting at here?
Our candy-ass generation is in a whole lot of trouble.
Prep On,
--Nick-Dog
Today, we made the trip back out to Lost River State Park in West Va., easily one of the nicest and most serene forests I've visited. The fall colors scintillated in the sunlight from underneath the vast canopy, while the creek that runs through the park chortled with vitality and strength from the recent rains.
As always, our trip here feels much needed, almost like a pilgrimage. When we find ourselves there, we have this place to ourselves on the whole. The other visitors we come across are usually a joyful lot. picnicking or partying under a pavilion with their families. The park ranger was cool too, not to mention that he was fortunate to carry a Glock on his hip as part of his duties.
Visiting Lost River allows one to forget the world and assess it properly, to refocus and breathe anew. Far from the smelly jackasses on Occupy Wall Street who continue to foment revolution, out here in the sticks the seasons continue their natural cycle, heedless of the Left and their ilk.
Indeed, the world is spinning out of control. It remains to be seen if Europe will manage to find another temporary fix for its financial woes and whether the United States' own standard of living will immediately plummet. Regardless of whatever else we face, I am in agreement with Jack Spirko: an economic Depression is coming and that it is now unavoidable.
Reading Clare's ancestral histories of late has provided a clear insight on how her forefathers weathered the Depression and the years that preceded it. Several things stand out. Though poor, they were excellent farmers, who made farming a near art-form by way of hard work and a strong cultural pride. While others wanted, they never starved. They worked like beasts, wasted nothing, and built their lives from scratch, sharing in a strong local community.
Did I mention that they did not have any electricity or indoor plumbing until the mid-40s, or that the first tractor was purchased in 1948, replacing their mule-driven plow?
In our own day farming and even small scale gardening is a ton of hard work, which requires a great deal of follow through and commitment. Community rises out of necessity. Innovation and self-sufficiency require determination and imagination. Opportunities have to be seen for what they are and seized.
What am I getting at here?
Our candy-ass generation is in a whole lot of trouble.
Prep On,
--Nick-Dog
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Musings: Do I Miss Chicago?
Sometimes I get nostalgic and dreamy about "the region" and Chi-town, but I usually stop myself.
Why be nostalgic? What is the damn point? I left. I'm gone. That's it. There was a time where I felt a ton of pride at being from Chicago. I still do. Yet while I grew up in the rust belt and had experiences that were certainly unique and definitely defined by place, I always desired to leave the area in search of adventure and perhaps something more.
Home will always be home I guess. I can't change that and would not. All of my close friends that I grew up with left to find their own way. Jason and Tim ran off to Cali, while Jake married Tim's ex and moved to Valpo. Jimmy D is a master electrician at this point and owns the house he grew up in.
All that said, I could have gone back. I could have returned to a life of WTF, where the seasons of the year are as much hockey and baseball as they are spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Occasionally I ruminate about what it would have been like to purchase a bungalow, fix it up, go to Sunday mass in a handful of regional Churches that look like an old school cathedral. To forget about what's happening in the world and follow the Hawks' every game, hitting up the best pizza known to man at my very whim, and being around lots of people who think in the same "regional" way.
The good news is I am not totally deprived, to my way of thinking. Good pizza exists east of Chicago, although it's taken me years to discover it (it's authentic Chicago style, of course), and the mountains and valleys make up for lack of Blackhawks' and White Sox coverage.
At the end of the day, I would rather be on a couch in front of a fire place in a country cabin (or the proximation of) with a cup of tea than chillin' in a Lincoln Park flat with my Intelligensia. To be sure, I've had my taste of city life excitement--in Georgetown in Washington, DC--and realized during that time that I'd rather be in the mountains in front of the hearth.
Now that I am here, I can honestly say that I am satisified with my decision and that my desires were not unfounded.
Still, sometimes the homesick nostalgia lunges for my throat. At this point I beat it down with ease and it's my choice to think about home. But really, while home is a place, it's also in your heart. It's also where you choose to rest your head for the night. Many people have passed through Munster and Chicago since I've lived there and rode my bike to Route 30 to visit 10th planet. It's a changed place since then, as all places change, but the memory and the nostalgic factor in the earth underneath it all remain. And there's more Schoop's too.
Regarding returning for a visit, it's mixed bag, hit or miss. Sometimes people are on their A-game and life is good. At others, people are dwelling in darkness and the shadow of death. I guess I'm glad they're real, but in the end it's all a toss up, and that's just family I'm talking about.
It's cool to be from some place. It also can be cool to venture out to go some place and live there as well. If there's one thing I've learned, however, it's that regardless of whether or not you're playing bocce and drinking a Corona on your 1/10 acre plot in Munster, the grass has an odd way of seeming greener on either side of the fence.
But really it's greener in the mountains. Really.
Over & Out,
--Nick-Dog
Why be nostalgic? What is the damn point? I left. I'm gone. That's it. There was a time where I felt a ton of pride at being from Chicago. I still do. Yet while I grew up in the rust belt and had experiences that were certainly unique and definitely defined by place, I always desired to leave the area in search of adventure and perhaps something more.
Home will always be home I guess. I can't change that and would not. All of my close friends that I grew up with left to find their own way. Jason and Tim ran off to Cali, while Jake married Tim's ex and moved to Valpo. Jimmy D is a master electrician at this point and owns the house he grew up in.
All that said, I could have gone back. I could have returned to a life of WTF, where the seasons of the year are as much hockey and baseball as they are spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Occasionally I ruminate about what it would have been like to purchase a bungalow, fix it up, go to Sunday mass in a handful of regional Churches that look like an old school cathedral. To forget about what's happening in the world and follow the Hawks' every game, hitting up the best pizza known to man at my very whim, and being around lots of people who think in the same "regional" way.
The good news is I am not totally deprived, to my way of thinking. Good pizza exists east of Chicago, although it's taken me years to discover it (it's authentic Chicago style, of course), and the mountains and valleys make up for lack of Blackhawks' and White Sox coverage.
At the end of the day, I would rather be on a couch in front of a fire place in a country cabin (or the proximation of) with a cup of tea than chillin' in a Lincoln Park flat with my Intelligensia. To be sure, I've had my taste of city life excitement--in Georgetown in Washington, DC--and realized during that time that I'd rather be in the mountains in front of the hearth.
Now that I am here, I can honestly say that I am satisified with my decision and that my desires were not unfounded.
Still, sometimes the homesick nostalgia lunges for my throat. At this point I beat it down with ease and it's my choice to think about home. But really, while home is a place, it's also in your heart. It's also where you choose to rest your head for the night. Many people have passed through Munster and Chicago since I've lived there and rode my bike to Route 30 to visit 10th planet. It's a changed place since then, as all places change, but the memory and the nostalgic factor in the earth underneath it all remain. And there's more Schoop's too.
Regarding returning for a visit, it's mixed bag, hit or miss. Sometimes people are on their A-game and life is good. At others, people are dwelling in darkness and the shadow of death. I guess I'm glad they're real, but in the end it's all a toss up, and that's just family I'm talking about.
It's cool to be from some place. It also can be cool to venture out to go some place and live there as well. If there's one thing I've learned, however, it's that regardless of whether or not you're playing bocce and drinking a Corona on your 1/10 acre plot in Munster, the grass has an odd way of seeming greener on either side of the fence.
But really it's greener in the mountains. Really.
Over & Out,
--Nick-Dog
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Western NC Adventure
Well, in about 4 days or so, I got to do just about everything I've always wanted to do. The only thing is, our vacation had to end.
Instead of making an extended beach trip, we drove down to Black Mountain, NC this year to see what we've been missing in the Appalacian State. Unfortunately, it is more than we would have liked to admit.
Day 1: Driving into Asheville was stupendous. Our kids were great and we left under the cover of darkness and fog. In Blacksburg we broke our fast at Gillie's, my favorite breakfast joint East of NW Indiana, aka "the Region." With full stomachs and extra coffee, our route continued through the hills in Tenessee directly into the Blue Ridge proper, which form an enormous fortress wall to the surrounding countryside. Entry was exciting as hell to this flatlander. Going through these guys blew me away.
We landed at our accommodations, a cabin called "Byrd's Nest," at half past 3PM. The structure, a cozy artistic timber-frame, serenely bestrides the mountain summit, overlooking the hills around it. From our bedroom window we watched the sunrise in majesty each morning over the Blue Ridge as our kids begin their daily routine of mayhem.
Day 2: We spent our first morning getting acquainted with our immediate surroundings, making a trip into the quaint town of Black Mountain. That day and each day thereafter began with a trip to The Dripolator Coffee House. The coffee was supreme, and quickly became an all-time favorite.
Black Mountain is a chill town filled with numerous crafts from relatively local artisans, and had shops that catered to nearly all of my interests. Craftsmanship and things handmade are cherished in the area. Like most of Western NC that we visited, Black Mountain stood in stark contrast to the pretentious, self-important Northern VA area in which we generally dwell.
For lunch we picnicked amidst a park/creek/retreat in the small town of Montreat. The setting was beautiful and perfect for the kids.
Day 3: Waterfalling adventure. With Dripolator in hand, we took to the Blue Ridge Parkway to stop first at Sliding Rock Waterfall and then at Looking Glass, Bridal Veil (the lame one), and Dry Rock falls.
Sliding Rock was the most fun and we had it virtually all to ourselves. Basically, it's an 80-foot or so waterslide in 50 degree mountain water. You sit down and scream for your life as you smoothly descend with ever increasing speed into an 8ft deep pool. The water was shocking at first. Once my body acclimated to my personal insanity, I didn't feel it at all and it actually became quite refreshing.
The other falls were beautiful to behold as well. Our drive was full of switchbacks on a US highway, taking us all the way to Franklin, NC and ended at an Asheville Brewery for Pizza and decent craft beer.
Day 4: We returned to Asheville to peruse the shops, with lunch at a place called "Boca," which is Spanish for "mouth." That evening I joined Clare's dad and brother on a trip to Troy & Sons moonshine distillery for a tour and then a beer at Highland's Brewing Co. We celebrated that night with a game of cranium as we fantasized about how fun it would be to live in Black Mountain and own Byrd's Nest.
Day 5: It was hard leaving. The grass is always greener on the other side, and I was able to sample living in a beautiful cabin at the top of a mountain, after visiting waterfalls, creeks, pottery stores, Dripolator, and all the rest. You couldn't make for a more biased opinion from me, I guess, regarding the place, but no matter how you cut it, Western NC is simply breathtaking.
Anyway, we hopped on the Blue Ridge Parkway, hiked Linville Falls, and continued to Boone, where we were happy to find a bustling college town and some Mellow Mushroom Pizza. Being Labor Day weekend, all the hotels were booked, but we were lucky to find a room in Abingdon, VA. We drove back via Damascus, an Appalacian trail town, and obtained our lodging.
Day 6: We raced north on I-81 to Blacksburg for mass at St. Mary's, and joined Clare's brother and girl friend for brunch at Cracker Barrell. The trip home ran smoothly and we were deposited in Strasburg by 6PM.
Summary: Black Mountain, NC and the area that surrounds it, is the jam, notwithstanding some of the liberalism in the place. But you don't get that sick feeling of liberalism that you get in San Francisco or Adam's Morgan. The area is completely chill, with mom and pop institutions dominating over the big-box stores. The beauty of the mountains fosters tranquillity, creativity, and adventure. With the exception or Spruce Pine, NC, all of the town we visited were upbeat, not depressed and down on their luck.
In a word, I would definitely go back.
Peace Out,
--Nick
Instead of making an extended beach trip, we drove down to Black Mountain, NC this year to see what we've been missing in the Appalacian State. Unfortunately, it is more than we would have liked to admit.
Day 1: Driving into Asheville was stupendous. Our kids were great and we left under the cover of darkness and fog. In Blacksburg we broke our fast at Gillie's, my favorite breakfast joint East of NW Indiana, aka "the Region." With full stomachs and extra coffee, our route continued through the hills in Tenessee directly into the Blue Ridge proper, which form an enormous fortress wall to the surrounding countryside. Entry was exciting as hell to this flatlander. Going through these guys blew me away.
We landed at our accommodations, a cabin called "Byrd's Nest," at half past 3PM. The structure, a cozy artistic timber-frame, serenely bestrides the mountain summit, overlooking the hills around it. From our bedroom window we watched the sunrise in majesty each morning over the Blue Ridge as our kids begin their daily routine of mayhem.
Day 2: We spent our first morning getting acquainted with our immediate surroundings, making a trip into the quaint town of Black Mountain. That day and each day thereafter began with a trip to The Dripolator Coffee House. The coffee was supreme, and quickly became an all-time favorite.
Black Mountain is a chill town filled with numerous crafts from relatively local artisans, and had shops that catered to nearly all of my interests. Craftsmanship and things handmade are cherished in the area. Like most of Western NC that we visited, Black Mountain stood in stark contrast to the pretentious, self-important Northern VA area in which we generally dwell.
For lunch we picnicked amidst a park/creek/retreat in the small town of Montreat. The setting was beautiful and perfect for the kids.
Day 3: Waterfalling adventure. With Dripolator in hand, we took to the Blue Ridge Parkway to stop first at Sliding Rock Waterfall and then at Looking Glass, Bridal Veil (the lame one), and Dry Rock falls.
Sliding Rock was the most fun and we had it virtually all to ourselves. Basically, it's an 80-foot or so waterslide in 50 degree mountain water. You sit down and scream for your life as you smoothly descend with ever increasing speed into an 8ft deep pool. The water was shocking at first. Once my body acclimated to my personal insanity, I didn't feel it at all and it actually became quite refreshing.
The other falls were beautiful to behold as well. Our drive was full of switchbacks on a US highway, taking us all the way to Franklin, NC and ended at an Asheville Brewery for Pizza and decent craft beer.
Day 4: We returned to Asheville to peruse the shops, with lunch at a place called "Boca," which is Spanish for "mouth." That evening I joined Clare's dad and brother on a trip to Troy & Sons moonshine distillery for a tour and then a beer at Highland's Brewing Co. We celebrated that night with a game of cranium as we fantasized about how fun it would be to live in Black Mountain and own Byrd's Nest.
Day 5: It was hard leaving. The grass is always greener on the other side, and I was able to sample living in a beautiful cabin at the top of a mountain, after visiting waterfalls, creeks, pottery stores, Dripolator, and all the rest. You couldn't make for a more biased opinion from me, I guess, regarding the place, but no matter how you cut it, Western NC is simply breathtaking.
Anyway, we hopped on the Blue Ridge Parkway, hiked Linville Falls, and continued to Boone, where we were happy to find a bustling college town and some Mellow Mushroom Pizza. Being Labor Day weekend, all the hotels were booked, but we were lucky to find a room in Abingdon, VA. We drove back via Damascus, an Appalacian trail town, and obtained our lodging.
Day 6: We raced north on I-81 to Blacksburg for mass at St. Mary's, and joined Clare's brother and girl friend for brunch at Cracker Barrell. The trip home ran smoothly and we were deposited in Strasburg by 6PM.
Summary: Black Mountain, NC and the area that surrounds it, is the jam, notwithstanding some of the liberalism in the place. But you don't get that sick feeling of liberalism that you get in San Francisco or Adam's Morgan. The area is completely chill, with mom and pop institutions dominating over the big-box stores. The beauty of the mountains fosters tranquillity, creativity, and adventure. With the exception or Spruce Pine, NC, all of the town we visited were upbeat, not depressed and down on their luck.
In a word, I would definitely go back.
Peace Out,
--Nick
Monday, August 22, 2011
Into the Tumult...
Beware, it's late and I'm rambling.
While the world continues it's plunge into uncertain times, I feel at peace knowing that I no longer have to look for "the sign" that the SHTF is here, at least to my mind.
I guess you could say that's a good thing, that is, the feeling of liberation from anticipation of what is perceived to be inevitable. I just don't care at least in the same way. I am more worried about getting the next bag of rice or chilling with my family, than the next news story stating that we are running off a cliff. At this point, the plummeting is just a matter of acceptance of society at large.
And that brings me to my point: it is difficult not to focus on what we anticipate in earnest and put our minds to the tasks at hand when the spectre of what's anticipated always seems to be looming on the horizon. If you're like me, you keep looking up, waiting for the next lightning strike, becoming distracted and hoping you don't get zapped in the process.
Not that it does one any actual good to know "the day and the hour." When lightning flashes, it's instantaneous, and that's it. There's not a whole lot one can do about it, except not hold a metal rod while pissing under a tree.
The whole idea is to stay out of and weather the storm.
And that's what a bunker is for.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
While the world continues it's plunge into uncertain times, I feel at peace knowing that I no longer have to look for "the sign" that the SHTF is here, at least to my mind.
I guess you could say that's a good thing, that is, the feeling of liberation from anticipation of what is perceived to be inevitable. I just don't care at least in the same way. I am more worried about getting the next bag of rice or chilling with my family, than the next news story stating that we are running off a cliff. At this point, the plummeting is just a matter of acceptance of society at large.
And that brings me to my point: it is difficult not to focus on what we anticipate in earnest and put our minds to the tasks at hand when the spectre of what's anticipated always seems to be looming on the horizon. If you're like me, you keep looking up, waiting for the next lightning strike, becoming distracted and hoping you don't get zapped in the process.
Not that it does one any actual good to know "the day and the hour." When lightning flashes, it's instantaneous, and that's it. There's not a whole lot one can do about it, except not hold a metal rod while pissing under a tree.
The whole idea is to stay out of and weather the storm.
And that's what a bunker is for.
Over and Out,
--Nick-Dog
Monday, August 15, 2011
Cabinet Shop
The next major stage in my preparedness adventure, is to work from home, or relatively close to it.
My goal is to create my own cabinet shop--that is, Strong Oaks Woodshop, Buckton Division--out back for part to eventually full time action. I am scheming, yes, and quite honestly, I am not too far out from that goal in terms of having the space set up. Maybe not perfectly at first, but enough to spend more time out there and start banging together projects, such as tables and the like.
In my plans I am looking to switch out my jointer, radial arm saw, and Jet Table Saw, to fund purchases for what I really need: a planer, sliding bevel miter saw, and a more robust--stable and powerful--table saw.
My other ideas include an outfeed table for the table saw, a covered outdoor section in front of the building for activities like sanding simply working outside, and eventually an addition out back to the building.
Anyway, transitioning from working hella far out there to close to home is not easy and takes time, focus, and effort. I suppose if it were easy, everybody would do it, instead of just hopping in to commute wherever each day, picking up a Starbucks along the way to make the 1 hour plus drive more bearable.
This way, I don't have to worry about checking into a mental institution to feel better about myself, as I will shall be ever close to the high levels insanity at home.
Hopefully, that all works out.
Peace,
--Nick-Dog
My goal is to create my own cabinet shop--that is, Strong Oaks Woodshop, Buckton Division--out back for part to eventually full time action. I am scheming, yes, and quite honestly, I am not too far out from that goal in terms of having the space set up. Maybe not perfectly at first, but enough to spend more time out there and start banging together projects, such as tables and the like.
In my plans I am looking to switch out my jointer, radial arm saw, and Jet Table Saw, to fund purchases for what I really need: a planer, sliding bevel miter saw, and a more robust--stable and powerful--table saw.
My other ideas include an outfeed table for the table saw, a covered outdoor section in front of the building for activities like sanding simply working outside, and eventually an addition out back to the building.
Anyway, transitioning from working hella far out there to close to home is not easy and takes time, focus, and effort. I suppose if it were easy, everybody would do it, instead of just hopping in to commute wherever each day, picking up a Starbucks along the way to make the 1 hour plus drive more bearable.
This way, I don't have to worry about checking into a mental institution to feel better about myself, as I will shall be ever close to the high levels insanity at home.
Hopefully, that all works out.
Peace,
--Nick-Dog
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