The new shed

Building a 12 x 12 x 12 shed. heres the foundation. Managed to nick my finger cutting gussets.

Betting on death

Seriously.  And rooting for it.

I'm involved in a case where investors send their money to this company, and the company buys life insurance policies.  The idea is that the policies are all paid up and will pay off when the insured dies.  Well, some of these insureds sell that policy at a discount ($1m policy at death, I'll sell it today for $500,000, or whatever).  So you invest in the discounted policy and wait for that person to die.  Which is macabre enough.

But, a fun feature of the investment was that the company would send you a list of insureds and a write up of their medical history and status, and an estimated life expectancy, and you pick the horse to bet on.  Only in this case, you want the horse to lose, quickly.  The longer they live, the less you make when they die (because part of your investment goes to paying the ongoing premiums).

In my case at hand, this turned out to be a scam.  The insurance agents were getting a 12% commission right off the top, for one thing, and selling it as an insurance product when it's really a security.  Plus, the company to whom the money was sent was skimming off huge chunks of it. 

But still, this goes on, and if done right is apparently legal, at least in some states.  Wierd.

The curtilage

My new wife has been a busy woman, digging and tilling and planting, and buying, plants.  Flowers and bushes and trees, oh my.  And emplacing stones, and digging those up and moving them and replacing them with other stones.  And digging up newly planted flowers and bushes and rearranging, and moving pots with flowers from the front to the back and to the front again. 

There's a little bit of trial and error, but things are coming together nicely. Before I had what I termed a green desert.  Just grass, and some plantings left over from a previous homeowner.  I wasn't much interested in the yard because it was just a source of work and expense, mostly in an effort to ensure my dog had a smooth green toilet.  Just don't use the yard for much at all.

But now, now, I can just look at it and experience some pleasure and satisfaction.  Much improved curtilage.  I wonder what she'll channel all that energy into once this project is complete.

A Hiss and a Byword

It's kinda weird when you know someone on death row. A murderer. A butcher.

Well, i don't really know him, nor do i want to, but we did grow up in the same town at the same time, we knew the same people, we ate at the same burger joints, we even spoke. We graduated from the same high school (assuming he graduated), attended the same church, I knew his family. I guess all that familiarity makes it seem like I knew him.

But no, I do not know him.

And in five days time, he will be put to death for his crimes. In his wake, he leaves bitter, heartbroken individuals and families. But, when Richard Leavitt takes his last breath, he'll become like every other person who has died. He'll just be dead. His name will be only a hiss and a byword from that moment on.

And hopefully, he'll be forgotten.

Update: June 11, 2012: done dead dog deal... the deed was duly dealt that day.

Something New

Trying a post from my phone....coolio if it works. Sometimes I amaze myself. Ha!
Ima try to attach a photo...

Disappointed Optimism

Okay, I know I'm the eternal optimist, but, I don't get people. I come from a long line of a lot of people and I can honestly say that there isn't one of them that I don't feel like I can count on for one thing or another. That isn't to say that I can count on each person for every little thing, but we do what we can to help each other out. I'm serious when I say that our blood is thicker than water. Or dollars. At least that has been true for me in my experiences with my family members for 57 years. I don't understand when one won't compromise a situation to help another out.

Seems to me like you should be able to count on family when you can't turn to anyone else. Seems to me like family would recognize and step up to meet a need once in a while even in situations that don't directly benefit them personally. Seems to me that it might strengthen weak relationships to reach out and do a good thing. Seems to me that if folks don't understand these simple concepts; that if they don't value these precious ties, they won't have them. And they don't deserve them. I guess some folks are givers and some folks are takers. And it takes all kinds to make this crazy world go 'round.

This pic is one that makes me feel good. And I really l.o.v.e. sweet potato vine.

Weekend

I don't understand why so many of my co-workers are fascinated by what I do on my weekends.  For several of them, the very first conversation I have with them on Monday is launched when they ask "What did you do this weekend?"  Or sometimes it's "Did you have any fun this weekend?"

I suppose it's not just my weekends that are so interesting, it's more that the folks who ask that are fascinated by weekends in general.  I hear them asking other people the same question, again, as the first conversation on Monday.  Of course, they tend to also be willing to discuss at length what they did for the weekend. 

Did I have fun?  Well, I dunno, what's your definition of fun?  I enjoy gardening and "working" on my motorcycles, but is that fun?  It doesn't make me laugh out loud, and often I'm cussing and sweating, but when I'm done I have a nice sense of accomplishment.  Sometimes in response to the "fun" question I say yes, I worked in the yard, and I get sort of a blank look.  Not their sort of fun I suppose.

And really, WTF is it their business what I did on the weekend?  I mean, that's actually kind of a personal question?  "What did you do this weekend?  Have any fun this weekend?  What were you wearing?"

I'm sure I'm the odd one here, since I suppose it is just a stupid filler question meant to serve as a social lubricant.  I can usually tell that, too, when in response to their "fun" question I say "Yes, I did, how about you?" and away they go with more details about their weekend than I ever really care to hear.  They never seem to circle back and seek details from me after I dodge the question.

Financial collapse made simple

Well, not exactly the entire crash is explained by this, but the housing financing segment of it is.   There are some f-bombs, in case you care.

https://docs.google.com/present/view?skipauth=true&pli=1&id=ddp4zq7n_0cdjsr4fn

Like gun flashes

You know what I hate seeing?  When I'm driving to work on the interstate amidst all the traffic, occasionally something, often something that I cannot identify, causes drivers to slow down.  I like to look a ways ahead when I drive, so I can anticipate what might happen.  Well, when I start seeing all those taillights popping red I know I'm hitting a delay.

When I see that red flash, it makes me think of muzzle flashes.  I'm being shot at, to impede my progress.  Now wonder I get so antsy when I drive, with that mindset.

Countdown

Cinco de Mayo coming up.  Big day for me, this year and every year from now on.  Party on.

I'm so excited....

...I just can't hide it! *SCREAM*

Ya gotta love it

A few days ago, I learned about a fella I know that was robbed. In the daylight. At gunpoint. With his wife by his side. In his own home. And to beat that, it all happened in a little town of maybe 10,000 people. Okay maybe a few more, I don't know. It was apparent that the assailant knew the victims, because he called them by name and told them that if they just "stayed put", he wouldn't hurt them. He kept his handgun trained on them for a full 20 minutes and talked casually to them before robbing them of a bunch of cash and valuables that they kept not-so-well hidden in their home. He told them he wanted 15 minutes (prolly to get to his getaway car parked on Rich Lane) before they called the police and they waited 10. He is still at large. 

Ya gotta love it. This is almost pretty funny, because not a mile away, there is a "black and white" parked regularly in a hidden spot on the main road diligently trying to catch the notorious speeders of Blackfoot. In fact a week earlier, I was pulled over and warned to slow down for going 39 mph in a 35 mph zone. Jeez, REALLY? Okay, okay....I know...you're right...39 mph WAS still speeding. But, my point is this. John Law was johnny-on-the-spot to apprehend this dangerous threat, but where was he when these other folks reported their theft in such a short time? Hmmmm? I know, the speeders on Rich Lane are an out-of-control bunch. Dangerous criminals. I'll bet you that thief didn't even speed as he drove past that cop and his trusty radar gun. Priorities being what they are and all, I hope the po-leece-man got his quota that day. 

*giggle*

Rainy day

It doesn't rain all that much here, but boy it came down the other day.  Pretty cool sky came with the rain.

I'm so happy

I know what you're going to think about this, but here it is anyway.  I've been a Chicigo Bears fan, year in and year out, since I lived in Chicago in the early 80s.  I follow them when they're up, and I follow them when they're down.  In fact, the Bears are really the only professional sports team I follow.  My only dissappointment is that the local TV stations don't broadcast the Bears very often.

And, I follow the Boise State Broncos.  I'm not a sports fanatic, but I'm pretty fanatical about these two teams.

So now, Da Bears have drafted BSU player Shea McClellin.  I'm thrilled.  Now when I do get to see the Bears play, I'll get to follow McClellin.  Maybe this will also persuade the local broadcasters to show more Bears games.  Maybe, yes, this is stretch, but maybe more Boiseans will start to follow the Bears.

Hooah.  I couldn't be happier.

Oh, and his number will be 99, same as the famous outstanding defender Dan "Danimal" Hampton.  Perfect.

I stand corrected

The other day I went to get my pickup sniffed.  You know, emission tested.  The requirement was just imposed on me last year, and at the time my truck wasn't really running.  I had the heater core out, and replacing that, and associated problems, meant it wasn't drivable for months.  And that's when the notice arrived.

And the the second notice arrived, and yet I was still hopeful that I'd get the truck running.  Any day.  So I didn't mail back the card with the "not running" block checked.  Because, any day now.  Well, after weeks passed and maybe a couple of months, and I finally got it running, I had forgotten about the sniff test.  In the mean time, Ada County revoked my registration.  I don't recall that they told me they had done it, thought I'd been warned that they would do it if I didn't get sniffed.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I still needed the sniff test, and knew that my registration was probably suspended or whatever they do, but I figured once I got the notice of renewal, I'd got take care of everything.  Good plan, until a cop stopped me for expired plates.  See, once they cancel your registration, they don't send out a renewal notice.  Nothing to renew, I guess.

So I was kind of pissed off about the whole situation when I finally went for the sniff test.  I pulled in, and the dude, after a minute, came out of  his little hooch, and looked in my window and said, "I think we're going to have a problem."  Turns out that the idle speed must be less than 1250 rpm.  He hooked up his tester, and I was idling at 1325.

Gong! Done.  He wouldn't test it.  So I said, that's an easy fix, and he said "You can't fix it here."  Very abruptly.  So now I was ever more annoyed.  So I just started to drive away, and as the door to his hooch shut I hear him say "See you in a little while."  I said "No, you won't."  Being pissed and all.

Plus, I tend toward judgmental, and I adjudged him as an ass.  Figured I'd pull over somewhere, make the minor adjustment, and find another sniff station.  When I looked under the hood, it wasn't quite a clear as I thought, so I decided to wait and check my repair manual.  I did, made the adjustment, got the idle into the right range, and was ready to try again, a couple of days later.

Trouble was, the annoying dude is the closest sniff station, by far, and I wasn't sure where to go, other than quite a ways away.  So, dammit, back to the annoying dude.  I hopped into my truck (What do you say to a one legged hitchhiker?  Hop in.) and Buck, my cocker spaniel also hopped in, and off we went.

I pulled up, prepared to be annoyed by the annoying dude.  The hooch door opened, he looked in the truck (my window was down so's we could talk) and he spotted Buck, and he immediately started cooing over the damn dog.  Wanted to pet him, and baby talked to him, and all that.  Performed the sniff test, chatted me up about how to reinstate my registration, and off I went.

So I had adjudged him as an ass, and he wasn't, but I was still a judgmental ass, so, lesson learned, take your dog with you. 

Stuff

I have some thoughts this morning about 'stuff'. You know the stuff I'm talking about. Stuff like spoons and towels and flashlights and can openers. That kind of stuff. We've been working on trying to put two households into the space of one for several weeks now. This project has it's unique challenges which I'll go into later, but somewhere along the road (over the past few years) my own stuff has accumulated it's OWN stuff! And that makes me crazy and frankly make me feel a bit enslaved. It even makes it hard to breathe! 'Not sure how it all happened, or when, but it definitely has happened. My big crock-pot now has 2 smaller ones; my wooden spoons have multiplied from two to six; the number of junky rubbermaid things with lids snap-ware has doubled; I even found 7 new tubes of mascara when I went to put my 'stuff' in my bathroom drawers. Wow. Ridiculous.

Okay, so one challenge with trying to merge our things is that not only do I have a lot of stuff, some of which is nice stuff, but my honeypie has a bunch of stuff too. We considered giving stuff away as parting gifts at our wedding open house to get rid of it. But, no. That's tacky. So this has got to happen, it's inevitable. We have to find a way to put it together and take our lives back from our stuff. I mean how many snappy containers and whisks do two people need? In trying to decide what to keep and what to toss, we thought we could lay it all out in the backyard and just go "shopping". We'll just pick out the things we like (and have room for) from what we have and say bubbye to the rest of it. Adios. Ciao. Sayonara. Sounds good, no? 

Stuff is important. Even Tom Hanks had Wilson....but, what happens next with our extra stuff is still up in the air. I doubt if it will end up on some exotic beach, but maaaaybeeee. I just want it gone. And soon.

We'll probably start with the kitchen. Keep your fingers crossed for us. 

Wilson found

Remember "Wilson," Tom Hank's only friend during his castaway years?  You know, the Wilson soccerball?  Well, he turned up in Alaska.

http://newsfeed.time.com/2012/04/24/soccer-ball-lost-in-japan-tsunami-surfaces-in-alaska/

Not really, but it's a fun idea.  And the real story linked to above it pretty cool, too.

Howdy

Inaugural post in our new blog.  More stuff to follow, once we get things set up.