What A Careless Mirror Selfie

The Next Chapter For An Old Friend

When I was in high school, a junior I believe, I found the iron ends of what used to be a bench of some sort. I rescued these end pieces from the trash pile, taking them into the garage where they would eventually sit, in a corner, for a few more months. Over the summer I scrubbed, rubbed, and scraped off years of paint, decay, and outdoor abuse. With the aid of my dad, we used some scrap red cedar, too short and too narrow for anything else, to make this a bench once again. I spent many hours applying linseed oil to the planks of wood, hand painting to iron supports, and getting it ready for a life in my mother’s garden she had in the front yard. This is where the bench lived for the next year. After graduation, I left to college in Waco the summer of ’87, my mother insisted I take the old bench because in her eyes it has always been mine. Since my high school sweetheart went with me, we decided to rent this little one bedroom, one bath house, the bench was our couch for the two years we lived there.

Soon enough, this bench would begin a journey with me, seeing the places in the world I would live, and eventually being introduced to my daughter who was born in Japan. The bench sat in my back yard facing a beautiful Japanese garden complete with koi ponds, statues, and a zen garden. We would sit out here daily, as weather permitted, watching the old couple in their 90s meticulously groom their garden. This is where I would read to her as I tried my hand at learning to speak Japanese. Eventually, we would begin calling New Mexico home, the bench found a spot under a large Chinkapin Oak where my daughter spent allot of time year round playing, reading, and taunting the local wildlife. Years later, her mother and I would indeed divorce, we owned very little in regards to furniture and such, but she wanted the bench for some reason. When I got wind of this devious plan the bench mysteriously got stolen, meaning I made it disappear, finding it a new home, once again, at my parent’s house. Skip ahead a few years now, I’m remarried, bought the place we’re in now, and the bench has been watching the pond ever since. By now, as you can see, some 28 years later, it needs a little tlc. I don’t know how old this bench is for real, but my almost 4 year old granddaughter has taken a liking to it. My oldest daughter thinks I should give it to her, one day, when she decides to get married.

When I told my son that I was going to be doing a little work to the bench he begged me to be a part of it all. Which is great for me, reminds me of when I was young and wanted to help my dad do things. I set him to disassembling the bench, taking care not to nick himself with something rusty, he used a fair amount of penetrating oil on all of the rusty bolts, all which would be replaced, which he didn’t know. He helped me scrub the metal and eventually paint it, he chose black again because as far as he can recall, its always been black. I had some engine block red I was going to use, but we kept it black for old time sakes. He helped cut the slats out of some reclaimed red cedar planks I had stashed, helped sand, shape, and finish them with me as well. Finally we were all ready for assembly, which he was very much involved in. I can see the pride on his face as we near the finish, he has done an absolute fantastic job, and I think he learned a few new things as well. Reminds me of a show I like that shows what happens to man made items if there is nobody to take care of them. For fun, I sent the picture below to my dad, asking if he remembered this bench. He called me and we talked about its great adventures and how well my own son had done bringing it back to life once again.

Homeowner’s Association Form Letter

So, yesterday I walked the close to 1/4 mile trek out to collect my mail from the mailbox located out at the end of my driveway. Normally I would take the golf cart but I was feeling froggy and just decided to walk. I don’t usually “sort” my mail out here in the street but there was allot of crap that I was going to put in the recycle bin since it had not been collected yet. As I am flipping through it all I see a letter addressed to “Resident” with my address printed below it. It is a letter from our beloved homeowner’s association. Might be important so I went ahead and opened it. After reading it through the first time I was left asking “what the fuck?” and need to read it again before I got pissed all the way. After A quick review I can see that they are talking of my location, it has the correct block, lot, plot, and section. The address on the envelope belongs to me, so it must be my property being spoke of. The jist of the form letter is to inform me (property owner) that a complaint has been filed suggesting I am burning “trash” items too close to the street which is too close to neighboring houses. The date sited was 22 days ago. Too close to my neighbors? My nearest neighbor’s house is over 650 yards away. The letter continues to outline the “offense” by stating that I was burning tires and other accelerant fuels. Wait just a damn minute here. First I don’t burn anywhere except the rear of my almost ten acres of property. Second, I don’t burn tires or use gas or diesel to set such fires. The letter has me at a loss.

As I am walking back to the house to go make a phone call because they have assessed a $350.00 fine for the incident, I notice, which makes me remember, I did have a fire in my front yard about three weeks ago. The scorch marks are still visible as I walk by. I wonder if this could be what they are referring to in the letter. I haven’t written about this yet here so y’all are probably scratching your heads wondering what has happened. I guess this is a good place to put in what happened and the I will figure out why there was a complaint. In a way I guess an outsider could say it was a trash fire in my front yard but if a person was paying attention they would of seen it was my riding lawn mower that had actually burst into flames. Man, I loved that old mower too, I was sad to see it go out in a blaze of glory like it did. What happened? I was mowing in the yard in front of my house pretty close to my driveway when a giant puff of black smoke blew out of the front of the engine cowel. I jumped off and flipped it open and when I did it burst into open flames. I was able to dowse the flames with the garden hose but it was too late. As I stood there watching it smolder a bit I secretly was hearing TAPS being played off in the distance. It was almost a tearful moment for me, but I held it back. It truly was a spectacular show but at the same time I didn’t like seeing my old friend roast its own marshmallows.

In review of the complaints in the letter I can see why they would say I was burning tires and using an accelerant because the tires did catch fire and the fuel line did melt and feed the fire. But hold on, this means that my incident was visible to someone somewhere. So I stood in the spot and looked around 360 degrees to see if I could figure out who the bastard was that assumed I was burning trash in my front yard. Well, there is only one house in my view and that is straight across the street. That old bastard has the eyes of a hawk then because its a good 200 yards from the street in front of his house. And it only burned for 10-12 minutes anyways. I’m so confused. Anyway, I will deal with him later, I have bigger fish to fry. I went in the house and called the secretary of the homeowner’s association to discuss the complaint and the fine I was not ever going to pay. I invited him out to check out the burned out carcas and I was declined a visit. I was told to go to their website and print out a form which I could use to defend myself. Once filled out I am to mail it to them with supporting information and/or pictures if available to justify my case. I was also reminded to enclose a check or money order with my form so I could pay the fine. Ummm, fuck you, there will be no check or money order enclosed you goofy bastards. I filled out the form and enclosed some nice glossy pictures with my explanation of what occurred. When I was done I sent my son down to throw it in the mail box for pick up today. This is why I detest having neighbors.

This whole thing has served as a good reminder. Since my other rider (the back up) isn’t in that great of shape and isn’t exactly dependable, I think I will get dressed and go mower shopping. I wonder what I will come home with. Have y’all seen the commercials for all the different riding mowers lately? Maybe they have been the “sign” I have been looking for and just haven’t realized it. I better make sure the trash fire I have going currently is out before I go because I would hate for some snooper to say I left it unattended. If I get a new toy I will be sure to show y’all so don’t worry.

Santa Found A Great Gift For My Ex!

What Is Your Idea Of Quality?

Is there a true difference if something is made in the USA versus if something is made in China? Anyone that has handled a product made in China and compared it to something made in the USA knows the difference. Why can’t Chinese products usually compare in quality to those products made in the USA? Does it matter what you spend your hard earned money on? Do we live in a world where the term “disposable” has become everything we buy? Do we not buy anything for long term anymore? Is the price of something a considerable factor knowing you will have to replace it more often?

This post is purely observational as my nieces (3 & 4) were visiting last night and they both had a small toy they were playing with. One of the trucks was about a year old and was bought at a dollar store. The other truck was a metal Tonka truck that was mine from the 70s and was given to the 4 y/o because she saw it and would not take no for an answer.  Both trucks were worn, beat up, but still their favorite toy of the moment for the choices available. The one from the dollar store was missing all of its parts and basically could only be called a truck simply because I saw it when it was brand new. That old Tonka truck (40+ years old) was still going strong, it still had all of its parts, and I know when she is done with it I will once again put it up on the shelf. Where as the truck from the dollar store with end up in the trash. The old Tonka truck has been through me, all three of my kids, and now my young nieces. I have no doubt it will remain the survivor.

I suppose this is my point. Sometimes the quality you get is based on where the product was made. If you would have asked me when I was 5 if I thought the shiny new truck I was playing with would one day, 40 years later, be displayed on a shelf I would have told you “only if it can survive 100,000,000 more jumps off the roof of the shed into the sand box pit”. As time goes on I find that relics of the past are harder to come by because our past is being swallowed by the future. As technology moves forward kids don’t want trucks anymore. I would say my parents got their money’s worth back in the day.

You know you have been dumpster diving when…………..

Over the years I have been known to dumpster dive once or twice or thousands of times. I’m also a fan of driving around going thru people’s stuff on “heavy trash” day before the truck comes to collect.

People throw away perfectly good “stuff” that they seem to just be done with and have no use for it any longer. Many times, where I live at least, people discard things that can be repaired but seems easier to just something new. I have no shame because I can usually repair it. Then I either keep it or sell it and make a buck or three.

Obviously, as the picture shows, this guy picked himself up a sweet gently used t-shirt.

How about you, is someone else’s “trash” a potential treasure to you?