STORMY WEATHER

It's rained all day.  June 28th.  Is this California or did this piece of real estate slide north into Washington state (where it rains all the time)?

I don't miss my man (WTF. .. when did I ever miss a man or had a "my man"?) but Stormy Weather, the music, has run through this little pea brain of mine today.

It promises to be 100 plus later in the week.  But today it's 60 something and raining.  Isn't anything the way that it used to be?

Out of Order

 It's happened again.  Damn PC of mine has been "jacked".  There's no getting onto the Internet.  There's no checking e-mail (password is screwed up and can't access from other computers).

Here I sit using Wifey's Mac waiting for Wednesday morning when a tech arrives to take care of the problem.

I can't understand why the McAfee virus program failed to do it's job.  Worthless.  Disappointing.  Waste of $$.

Until repairs are made and the virus killed I'm a guy without his nuts.  That's what it feels like.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Hey guys!  Perplexed on what to give that special lady in your life come next birthday or Christmas?

Here's the gift that keeps on giving and giving and giving. .. . .

Oh, in case you're wondering, this is taken from Saturday Night Live.  Justin Timberlake can be seen here:

Damn!  What Happened To Me?

It's been over a week since my last blog entry.  What happened?  Having fun.  Sailing (on the lake by 6 or 6:30 a.m.).  Working.  A little of that.  Lots of that.  Time flew and next thing I knew .. .. it's a week later and then some.  Frankly, I have no clue as to why I was so busy that there wasn't a moment to spend on the blog.

For one thing we did have out of town company for a few days.    

There was work to do on one of the properties. 

Wifey bought some beer and chicken wings. I had to concentrate on consuming both.  No small task, mind you.

Friends were over for dinner one night.  Steaks.  Drinks. 

Where does the time go?

Today involved more early morning (6:30 a.m.) lake sailing.  A friend wanting his first sailing experience went along for the ride.  He ended up driving the boat.  I think he loved every minute. 

Check out the video taken today. . . and never mind the narration provided by you know who.  So what if I repeat myself.  If that's what getting older means I could care less as long as I don't involuntarily fart in public (but still fart on cue) or become incontinent (which means living on just one continent, doesn't it?). 

Enjoy the show.  Popcorn anyone?



 

Got No Smell Like That One

If you follow What About Bob? you've seen photos of the truck.  Here's one where it's hooked up to the 12,000 pound fifth wheel we own.  Three tip-out slides make it a heavy mother to haul.  But with the Cummings diesel it has the truck can haul that damn thing up any mountain without breaking a sweat with pedal to spare.

Wifey is taking the truck to Oregon this weekend.  It's her aunt's 85th birthday and for some reason wants to drive the truck and leave her BMW at home with me. 

So I had the truck washed this morning just for Wifey at one them fancy places where you can add on service 'till ya hit 25 bucks.  Like tire dressing.  Under the truck wash.  On top of the truck wash, too.  Wax.  Window wash inside.  And stinky fragrance.

Washer Dude:  What smell you want sprayed in your truck.

Me:  How many kinds you got?

Washer Dude:  We got 'em all.

Me:  Okay, I want weed smell. 

Washer Dude:  Huh?  Weed smell?

Me:  Yeah, weed smell.  You know, dope, marijuana.  I want my truck to smell like that.

Washer Dude:  Don't got that in a bottle but tell ya what, when we're done pull her around back and we'll do a joint inside of your truck.  We'll toke it up and weed it up real good.

Needless to say, I passed on partying with Washer Dude and optioned for some vanilla scent.  If nothing else Washer Dude will have yet another story to share with his "buds" after work tonight.

So, next photo here of a rubber vulture sitting on the truck which is parked in the driveway of the house.  A couple of times a month I put the vulture on the truck just to see how many cars stop to gawk at it.  And stop they do.  They look and look and look just waiting for the vulture to move.

Sometimes it gets down to this:  What else do I have to do?

Okay, I could go to the car wash and ask for weed fragrance.

Each definitely comes under the heading of ALL ABOUT BOB...............

A Steak For What?

Wifey:  Dinner tonight.  I have a meeting and won't be home for dinner.  Can I pick you something up?

Me:  I'm thinking steak.  I'm in the mood for steak.....simply because you're asking (said much in the tune to the song..... I'm in the mood for love, simply because you're near me).

Wifey:  Well, there's a price.  You want steak.  Then it's flesh for fantasy.  My price.  Fair enough? 

Me:  That's the girl I married.  I want the steak and you get the fantasy.  Just wait.

Wifey:  Just don't be sleeping when I get home, Mr. Flesh for Fantasy.



I'm thinking that next cruise of out the marina this is what will be playing on the boat's sound system.  Full blast.  I should take some video.  Ya think?

Just Another Day

It never ceases to amaze me how piddly ass shit consumes the better part of a day.  Take this one:

6:30 a.m. Home Depot buying fence boards and replacement heating/air conditioning vents for the rental.

7:00 a.m.  Fill the truck with diesel.  Wifey and the kids are using this this weekend for a trip to Oregon to visit an an aunt celebrating her 85th birthday.  Diesel has come down a bit and I fill the tank with 26 gallons (in a 36 gallon tank) worth $108.  The wife is likely to use 26 gallons at least in getting there and another 26 coming home.  While I fill the tank I wonder how folks do it with large motorhomes or trailers. . . .. the old saying that half the fun is getting there surely can no longer be the case. . . not at $4.26 a gallon for diesel.  Hells bells, where's the fun in that?

7:45 a.m.  At the rental finishing odds and ends.  I check the gardening area and think that I should replace the wooden borders.
 
8:30 a.m. Arrive at the marina to check the nuts on newly installed mooring cleats.  Lock nuts are not working.  The constant force exerted on the cleats is loosening the nuts.  Come to think of it, my nuts are feeling a bit loose, too.  BOB'S HANGING LOOSE!

I take time to visit with the young girl who LOVES MY FURLING JIB!  She tells me that her day launched his J24 sailboat yesterday and that it's on the hook in the marina.  I check it out.  Nice boat.  Nothing at all like Sparkle Plenty.

9:15 a.m. I drive to the second marina across the lake to check out where other Catalina 250's  are moored.  There are four with mine making a total of five on the lake.  I stop to talk with another sailor who is making repairs on his outboard.  He owns an older Catalina 25.  Nice guy.

9:45 a.m.  As I'm driving along the lake front an SUV stopped in the middle of the road waves me over.  They can't find NEED camp (a wilderness camp run by the local county office of education - -- and the camp that I once oversaw as part of my duties with the office of ed).   These people missed the NEED camp turn off miles back.  I tell them to follow me and that I'll get them there. 

10:00 a.m.  Back home.  Take the American flag down (you did know that yesterday was Flag Day, didn't you?).  Another banner is put in its place. 

10:20 a.m.  Return phone call to prospective renter.  Likely we'll accept this person's application tomorrow and sign a year's lease.  Three kids and a wife.  One kid in high school about to graduate.  Two girls homeschooled by their stay at home mom.  Dad is a big wig with the city of Cowtown and makes big bucks.  No doubt the rent will be paid promptly and in full each month.

10:30 a.m.  On the computer to make changes to the lease for the rental.

10:45 a.m.  Exercise the dogs.  It's warming up (over 88 already . .. and none too soon to tucker the girls out).

11:00 a.m.  I hear fire trucks heading south.  Check the net page of the local paper and find that the fire is in a field right by a friend's home...possibily in her field (who is out of town and likely unaware of the fire).   I make a several calls to see if we can't give her a heads up.

11:15 a.m.  I field several calls from Wifey.  She's shopping for replacement blinds for the rental and picking up a set of wooden blinds that have been repaired.  Wifey asks if I'd like steak for dinner.  Does a bear shit in the woods, I ask?

Noon:  I discover that I've not eaten a bite today.  Rummage through the refrigerator and find left over beef stew.  I heat it and eat it (and I'm a poet and don't know it).

12:30 p.m.  I check e-mail.  Several of interest the rest crap.  Why is it that crap e-mail seems to be the norm these days?  One from a high school friend who had been suffering from prostate cancer.  Seems that he's on the mend and likely in A-okay butt-hole condiiton.  Good news.  Another e-mail is in the bunch from a blogger friend.

12:45 p.m.  Sit down at the computer thinking of what, if anything, to post on the blog.  You've been reading the "if anything" which came to mind.

The day is nearly half over.  It's been busy but for some reason it feels somewhat pissed away.   I wonder if I am destined to spend the rest of my life this way.

It's likely a good thing to keep enjoying the pissing away each day part of life.  Things could be worse.

Nothing Like It

I miss sailing the catamaran I once owned.  Sailed it for many years.  And tipped it over many times.  That went with the territory. 

Not long ago America's Cup changed up from monohull boats to "cats".  Right on, I thought.  Competition sailing is a young man's sport.  Why not a young man's boat?

There's a fine line in cat sailing from everything under control and everything in the drink upside down.  The photo here shows that I'm maintaining that fine line.  A move to put the starboard hull a bit more in the air would have meant capsize.

Yesterday on San Francisco Bay a smaller model of a Cup boat (45 feet compared to 72 which will be raced in the Cup come next year) owned by ga-zillion-aire Larry Ellison capsized.  Expensive mistake (torn sails, no doubt damage to the hull and rigging).  Most likely chump change to Larry.

You just have to see this:



SAN FRANCISCO – When America's Cup sailors said their fast new catamarans were cutting-edge and exciting, they were factoring in inevitable capsizes.
Monday afternoon on breezy San Francisco Bay, it was no less than one of the most dominant skippers in America's Cup history, Russell Coutts, whose 45-foot catamaran went head-over-heels in a spectacular wipeout.

Grinder Shannon Falcone was thrown through the wing sail and into the chilly water, and another crewman was thrown into the water. Falcone was examined by paramedics on the dock and taken to the hospital for precautionary X-rays. Sailors wear crash helmets and foul-weather gear when sailing the speedy boats.

Coutts, the CEO of defending champion Oracle Racing, was racing skipper Jimmy Spithill as part of a media day to publicize the U.S. debut of the new boats. His boat was bearing away during the prestart maneuver when the bows buried in a wave and the cat lifted into the air and went over before coming to rest on its side.

The catamaran was pulled upright by a support boat.

Coutts almost capsized on Friday, the second day of Oracle's first testing session in the new cats on San Francisco Bay. The AC45s debuted earlier this year in New Zealand, where two capsized. The AC45s will be used for the AC World Series this year and next. The 2013 America's Cup will be sailed in 72-footers, which will be faster and more powerful.

Sailors have known that getting up to speed in the new catamarans is going to be tricky and possibly dangerous.

Coutts, a four-time America's Cup winner, was prophetic when he and Spithill spoke at a news conference earlier in the day about the risk-reward of sailing the cats.

"They're very demanding but also incredibly exciting," said Spithill, a 31-year-old Australian who is the youngest skipper to win the America's Cup.

Said Coutts, a 49-year-old New Zealander: "Sometimes it helps to be a little younger, you know. You've got to get to the point of finding the edge and not going over the edge, and sometimes you're going to go over the edge. That applies not only in a sailing sense — we're challenged as sailors like never before, probably, in these boats — but in the design sense. These guys will tell you, that's one of the big considerations in the 72. Because the closer you design it to the edge, the faster it will go. But you don't want to go over the edge. Or preferably not over the edge."

After sailing a monstrous, space-age trimaran to defeat Alinghi of Switzerland in 2010 to win the oldest trophy in international sports, Oracle — owned by software billionaire Larry Ellison — decided to contest the next America's Cup in catamarans on shorter courses to make the sport more TV-friendly. The cats replace the plodding monohulls that were used from 1992-2007.

"It's a complete change," Spithill said. "I think if you ask the average person about America's Cup, they think of guys sitting on the side of a monohull yacht, a heavy displacement yacht, going quite slowly around the course. These boats are the complete opposite. Everyone is wearing helmets for a reason. There's a significant amount of risk. They're probably one of the most athletic boats I've seen for the crew to sail. There's also a huge reward for sailing them well. They're the fastest boats out there at the moment. To get the best out of these boats, you have to push."

The Oracle sailors joked about having an "old guy boat" and a "young guy boat."

"We're trying to get comfortable with these boats. It's hard to teach an old dog new tricks and I can tell you, I'm not sure if I'll ever get comfortable with these boats," Coutts said. "Anyway, I'm giving it a go. Basically, Jimmy and the guys are way better than we are in our boat right now. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and J.K. (tactician John Kostecki) get amused when we screw up. They had grins all over their face the other day when we almost capsized. Jimmy actually said to me, 'It's a pity you didn't capsize.' I don't know. we'll be certainly duking it out and trying to beat the hell out of each other just to try and get these guys ready to go and race the cup."

Kostecki grew up sailing in the Bay Area.

"If these things are that much fun, the 72s are going to be wild," Kostecki said.

The combination of the fast catamarans and San Francisco Bay is sure to be spectacular. The bay provides a natural amphitheater, ringed with famous landmarks like the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, the Transamerica Pyramid and Coit Tower.

What's In A Name?

I'm often asked how our sailboat, Sparkle Plenty, got its name.  Goes way back to reading Dick Tracy comics, a favorite "strip" of mine:

"Plenty familyThe Plenty family was a group of goofy redneck yokels headed by the former villain, Bob Oscar ("B.O."), along with Gertrude ("Gravel Gertie") Plenty. Gravel Gertie was introduced as the unwitting dupe (accessory) of the villain, The Brow, who was on the run from Dick Tracy. The family provided a humorous counterpoint to Tracy's adventures. The Plenty sub-story was decades long, and saw Sparkle Plenty grow from an infant to a young married lady.
The Plenty family appeared with Tracy in a story that occurred in a bank, where "B.O." found a way to prevent thieves from snatching an envelope of money from a counter."

Or,

"In his comic strip Dick Tracy Chester Gould has created a repulsive
gallery of characters which includes such figures as Flattop, The Brow
and the Mole. Last year Gould married off two of his unseemly
personalities, B. O. Plenty, an unkempt, smelly old criminal and Gravel
Gertie, a banjo-playing dervish who lived in a gravel pit. Two months
ago this grotesque couple amazed Gould's public by producing a beautiful
child named Sparkly. Her dazzling eyes and hip-length blond hair
immediately won the hearts of Dick Tracy's 26 million readers.

Among them was an ex-all American football player named William
M. Mc Duffee, manager of the toy department of Gimbels, one of the
largest department stores in the U.S. McDuffee reasoned that because
of the popular comic strip a Baby Sparkle Plenty doll would need little
advertising or promotion. Mc Duffee took his idea to the Ideal Toy and
Novelty Co. Forty eight days later, the production of Baby Sparkle
Plenty dolls began. On July 28 they went on sale. At a stiff $ 5.98 apiece,
10,000 sold in the first five days. Sales in the next two weeks zoomed
to 22,000. At this rate more Baby Sparkle Plentys will be sold in the
last five months of this year than all other types of doll put together.
Mc Duffee, who knows a good thing when he has it, is getting ready
to bring out Baby Sparkle Plenty cradle and a Gravel Gertie banjo."

Sparkle Plenty seemed as likely as any other to paint on the side of the boat.  The boat does sparkle plenty. 

It's About The Music, He Said!

I love leaving the marina at the helm of Sparkle Plenty.  And everyone on the dock knows Bob is headed out for a day's worth of sailing.  How?

16 year old Bob (the inner me) cranks up the boat's sound system (speakers inside her and out) usually with something like this.  Puts a smile on my face.  People smile back.  I wave.  I toot the boat's horn.  Ring the ship's bell (my way of saying, Hells Bells!) If you can't make  a lot of noise in this life why bother?

Today I'm taking the neighbor kid sailing.  He's home from law school and itching to sail.  I'm gonna see what this kid is made of starting with the music 'cause he'll soon learn that it's not only about the sailing but IT'S ABOUT THE MUSIC!!, too.

The Snapshot Kid

Wifey and Grace traveled to the coast a couple of weekends ago.  On the way there they stopped at a rest area.   Grace grabbed the camera and photographed her favorite grandmother (and only grandmother).

Not bad composition. 

After taking a slew photos Gracie climbed back in the car to feast on the spaghetti that I made the night before.  It was packed in a Thermos  to keep it warm knowing our girl, like her Papa, will devour decently prepared pasta any hour of the day or night (photo here was snapped at approximately 10:30 in the morning).  And yes, that is pasta sauce on her little bitty chin.

Can't you just tell that Grace wants to shout out, MAMA MIA, THAT'S A SPICY SAUCE!

Well, she kind of does.

The Wisdom of the First Americans

You may have to enlarge this by clicking it. 

Some people convert to another religion.  Me?  I'm thinking of converting to another race or culture.  Native American.  Maybe we all should.  America could become a better place to live (at least the males in the tribe).

Bob's Dibs on a New Native American Name:  Dances With Beavers.

And that's the name of that tune.

I Like Your Jib!

Yesterday I was on Sparkle Plenty readying her for a shake down sail to make certain all was in place before taking on passengers.  Inside the salon I had just changed from jeans into shorts when I hear a female voice, "I like your jib!"

Shit, I thought.  Someone caught me changing into my sailing shorts and likes my jib?  Hahahahaha, the little voice in my head cried out.

I climbed up onto the deck and there was Leslie, a college age female who works each summer at the marina.

Me:  You like my what?

Leslie:  Your furling jib.  I love it.

Me:  Oh.  Yeah, a furling jib a good thing.  Would like a furling mainsail.  It would make single handing the boat a lot easier.  Have you sailed much?

Leslie:  Naw, I haven't sailed for a while (typical answer I get from most who I put this question to).

Me:  You're welcome to come sailing anytime.  There's always room for more.

Leslie went back to her marina duties and I returned to readying the boat for sailing.  As I watched her walk down the dock I thought to myself that back in the college days young ladies made over other attributes I had.  Never did I think there would be a day when a twenty something lady would be taken with the furling jib on my sailboat.

If Leslie does come sailing I wonder if she will squeal with delight when I unfurl the jib?  I should get that on video.

Ya think?

D-Day : The Normandy Landings HD

Okay Already

Okay already.  I've been busy.  The home you see is vacant and needs a new tenant.  For the past 7 days it's been fix this, paint that, replace that, hire someone to do something I can't.  You get the picture.  The wallet is not half full but half empty. . . . just like the glass.  The place needs to be leased so the bleeding can be stopped.

New living room rug.

New garage door (don't ask).

Interior and exterior paint.

Replace the dryer vent.

Down one large oak tree.

Replace the water heater.

Refinish the guest bath tub.

There more but need I add to this list.  Nope.  Not necessary.

Finding a good, good tenant is difficult.  Ones that do not smoke, do not have pets, who will not grow weed in the backyard, who are reasonably employed with sufficient income to make the lease payments, with credit histories that look half way decent. ... etc., etc.,. ... etc., ......are hard to come by.  We've talked to a few and so far each are many fries short of a Happy Meal. 

Sure, we could have picked one of them out this first bunch and leased the place for a year to them.  But at what price in the long run?  In one year would there have been holes in the wall?  Would there have been many late or missed lease payments?  How about damage to the appliances?  One can't be too careful in letting just anyone live in an asset worth over a quarter million bucks. 

That's what has been taking my time.  It's been raining most every day meaning working at the rental is a good thing as it's too wet to sail.  This said, the weather this week is forecast as being over 80 and sunny.  It all starts tomorrow.

Hmmmmm.  Come tomorrow......   Rental?  Or sailing?  Rental?  Sailing?  Okay, sailing!