Wednesday, January 18, 2012

How deep are puddles

 * Authors note: self imposed warning here to help avoid any possible censorship and blocking of my internet blog, this post contains some language that may be considered offensive.
I though, asserting my constitutional right of true free speech, as a person, and individual registered voter, not a "corporation" with money to spew forth in mockery of the amendment, have written a story to entertain and humor the reader, in hopes that it will lift their spirit, touch their soul, impassion their heart and be a self-evident example of the value of true free speech.
Peace -

Now on with the story -
Ø  Puddles –

When you step in a puddle and the water comes up to your ankle, is that still a “puddle” or does it become a “hole full of water”? And is a pothole only in a road – what about a parking lot? Paved = potholes and puddles, unpaved = a regular hole and puddles? Or is “pothole” reserved for any surface damaged by vehicular wear? I guess I think a puddle is more a low spot, a dip if you will, in the surface. You can have a puddle on a paved parking lot or an unpaved parking lot. You can have a puddle on a grass surface, a dirt surface, a concrete surface, a wooden surface, metal surface, even hard packed sand surface, any where there has either been enough saturation or an impermeable (nice word, huh?) surface.  No matter what it’s called, stepping in one when you are not prepared to combat the moisture and/or do not expect the depth of the spot to be adverse to your situation – it really, really sucks!
Our parking lot at work (and a lot of others around here for that matter) look like fucking mine fields! These parking lots are beat to shit. Sign of the economic times I guess, nobody can afford to fix their lots and the weather takes its toll fast. When it rains, and it rains here a good deal, in fact as a point of reference, we moved to Lancaster PA from the beautiful Northwest, Seattle WA where everyone knows it rains. But, as a matter of Famers Almanac fact – this area of PA, the fertile Susquehanna Valley gets approximately 45.17 inches of rain a year, Seattle gets 37.07 – this is on average over the last thirty years. The difference, and it’s a big one, is when it rains here it really rains, you might get an inch or more rain in a hour or so, where in Seattle it might “rain” all day and barely measure a half inch so you don’t get puddles really, damp surfaces, moisture and a few wet spots, but not a bunch of puddles. Here, when it rains there are usually puddles in the first 15 minutes! 
So here, you are going to either navigate puddles or step in something and get wet, unless you have on some sort of waterproof footwear. Women, girls, you I believe have the advantage of those neat designer print rubber boots, those with flowers, and leopard prints, or a neat tartan plaid, or poke-a-dots, or solid yellow, red, blue, pink or black. You can wear these incorporated into your work or casual look and be just fine. A fashion choice. Guys on the other hand, don’t for the most part fit this style model – most, I said, and no judgment here, some guys can pull that off because they have that hip fashion style, a la Nautica, American Eagle, Ralph Lauren. An L.L.Bean boot maybe, but those aren’t all rubber up past your ankle. Also, women will not think twice about a change of footwear especially in inclement weather, guys on the other had (idiots) just can’t get their head around that concept. But a fashionable waterproof boot choice, that isn’t for most guys and certainly not around here. If I wore something like that I’d look like a dumb-ass, old-man-schlep with “girl” boots on! So instead, like a dumb-ass schlep, I just wear my business dress shoes, or whatever, and try to negotiate the terrain as not to step in a spot deeper than one quarter inch.
So picture this, imagine one of those aerial photos of the Florida marshes, or the African plains after a torrential downpour, can you picture those few and sporadic dry spots of high ground? Imagine it. Now picture our parking lot in that manner, little islands of high ground, and winding irregular ridges of area connecting safe passage through the mass of low, expansive, wet, menacing puddles. Now picture me (having of course to park at the far fucking end of this obstacle course of pavement because there is never anything up front), me, carrying my computer bag (too bulky and over stuffed with crap I really don’t need to lug around), me, carrying a travel cup of coffee, and me if I remembered it, carrying an umbrella, wandering and weaving about on a maze-like path for probably a quarter fucking mile trying to avoid stepping in a puddle, pothole or canyon of water in my stupid low-soled, non-waterproof, business dress shoes. What an idiot! If it wasn’t so pathetic it would be funny! But at the time I’m not laughing, I’m pissed that the parking lot is a minefield of water hazards. It’s Nature’s fault, and the Property Managers fault, that I’m getting soaked and now have wet feet and I’m only half way to the door. Hell, car-door to office-door of eighty yards in a straight walk. I’ve been schlepping about for a minute and a half, only half way there, when  I finally decide fuck it, and just walk straight to the door stepping in every puddle, hole, pond, lake, I can, just stomping through them, splashing about, kicking water every which way.  And now I find myself smiling! Not smiling like an idiot smiling, but smiling because I remember what fun I used to have as a kid going to school and intentionally stepping and jumping in every puddle I could, arriving a wet, dripping, happy mess, and happy at the fun of it.
But I’m not an elementary school kid anymore, I’m a “business man” (ha) – I think I’m gonna go get a pair of those cool boots, maybe the green ones with the little frog face and ears at the toe and I’m gonna enjoy what comes, hell or high water!

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Aution Hunters has nothing on me


Ø  Stuff from Auctions –
This area of the country has Auctions. There are garage sales, yard sales, flea markets, community craft, collectible and antique sales, “tag” sales, roadside stand sales, Estate Sales, I have even seen “peddlers” with fruit and vegetables loaded neatly in an old truck bed with bushel baskets of items. But I’m talking about Auctions at farms and homes where an Auctioneer hosts and calls the pieces for sale one item and “lot” at a time. There’s generally a main tent area and auctioneer stand, with a table in front where items next up are staged and picked up and shown by various assistants. They and others are spotters that catch the bids, some subtle gestures, some loud annoying bellows, from the crowd.
The folks attending often come with folding chairs, and boxes, some have magnifying glasses and maybe a jewelers loupe, some with a thermos of coffee, some with blankets when it’s cold, umbrellas when it rains, fans when it’s hot. Most are veterans and pros in this Auction game, but too, most are locals, relatives, friends, towns people, not many people from outside the region. Several really know their stuff and have a keen eye from real bargains, true collectibles, valuable jewelry and antiques. Others are savvy buyers for their second hand stores, antique stores and their flea market booths. This last bunch are a curious lot, to me they’re a wee bit odd, they often have one of those creepy older Dodge or Ford Econoline panel vans with no windows except in front and at the rear, with the rear ones usually covered inside by newspaper, or cardboard, or if these folks are top notch; curtains (mismatched, stained, with fruit, flowers or some other odd pattern). These folks are relentless bidders, generally if they are in, they stay in as a matter of pride or just plain stubbornness, but they do have their limit too. They’ll bid an item or tray of things up fast and without a flinch then just stop.
I go mostly for fun and to see what sells for how much. I’ll maybe have something in mind that I’m looking for that works perfectly well “used” than to go buy something new. (My part in the “reuse, recycle” mantra). For instance, I might have a notion to find a brass or similar floor lamp that would look good in a sunroom. So I go to a few auctions and see if they have any. Sometimes they do, and if it’s cool and I like it, I bid until I get it or I feel it’s not a price I want to pay. So in those cases you might go to several saless before you find and then actually get something. An interesting delayed satisfaction thing going on here. And while you’re there at these auctions other random stuff is there and just might catch your eye, not that you really needed or wanted it, or there’s those “trays” or “Lots” of items at times seemingly piled together that become interesting because nobody really knows what is all there but maybe one thing of marginal interest, and as an “odd lot” it’s bidding is low or non-existent. Things can sell for a dollar, often, or if it doesn’t, stuff is added. Like, two hand rakes, a garden spray nozzle and a painted flower pot – no bids, “let’s throw in that bird bath and flag pole” and it goes for a dollar. Or, a random box of various mugs and juice glasses, no bid, “let’s add that tray of kitchen utensils” (and on that tray of odd forks, spoons, knives of stainless steel, meat tenderizing hammer, kitchen thermometer, wooden spoons, is a 1950s Mouli metal hand shredder with four grating/cutting disks, in the original but very badly damage box – this is the item of interest). “who’ll give me five” – nobody – “four, three, then two, OK one dollar” and a hand goes up. “I have a dollar can I get two. I have two now three, yep, four, now five, six, seven in back, eight, nine do I hear ten, I have ten, eleven, now twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, can I get twenty, OK I’ll take sixteen, now seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, I have twenty. See now, we could have skipped all that before and just gone to twenty. Do I have twenty five, I have twenty five, twenty five, do I have twenty six, twenty five now six? Twenty fiiiiiive, now six? Sold for twenty five dollars to number 473. Thanks Jimmy”. All Jimmy wanted was that Mouli, because he saw one sell the other day on EBay for $75.
I enjoyed that Auction, though it did get cold and wet, and I didn't have a chair, or umbrella, or good hat or coat for that matter, because I'm not a Pro, and I wasn't prepared, so I kinda froze my ass off really, but I enjoyed it. So, that day my amateur bidding and keen I got me: two white wicker lounge chairs with new Pottery Barn brand seat cushions for $16, a framed world atlas picture (for my nautical theme basement bar, yeah! ) for a dollar, a pruning lopper and hedge shears for a dollar, a 36” antique framed beveled mirror for, you guessed it, a dollar, a mixed “Lot” of kitchen gadgets for yes, just one dollar - you seeing a trend here, I'm a kind of bottom feeder in thier Aution world. For my dollar, that box “lot” had a neat old handcrank can opener, wooden spoons, a candy thermometer, some ugly old pot holders, a box of colored toothpicks, a “church key” bottle opener, a yucky old rubber spatula, two raggedy looking silver plated (but barely) serving forks, a bookmark, a few magnets, a pill bottle of safety pins, a new in the package toilet brush, and a four disk vintage tin Mouli shredder! I saw it piled with the other stuff and the "new" box was beat to shit, so you had to actually look to see what it was -- no dought "Jimmy" didn't or this Lot would have gon for way more than a buck, and not to me!
So the other day, I’m in the kitchen with my wife and we're making dinner (Mexican, yum!), and I've used my way-cool Mouli to shred cheese, and shred lettuce, and sliver onions, so cool, and I'm stirring chile with one of those neat old wooden spoons. It has a carved and painted zebra on top of the handle, and my wife asks “where did that come from?” and I proudly say “from that $1 box of gadgets from the auction the other week”. “I don’t think that’s a spoon, it’s shaped kinda weird at the bottom” she said. “I think it’s just worn down some, but it doesn’t really scoop and hold anything. More like a . . . I don’t know” I shrugged.  “A shoe horn” she said raising an eyebrow with a slight smirk on her face. “No, it’s a spoon or spatula or something. A spoon-ula, or a spatul-oon, or something in between. It was in all that kitchen stuff” I replied with confidence.
“It is a shoe horn! And by the way, also in that “kitchen gadget box” was the toilet brush, dear” came from her mouth matter of factly.
Touche. I am pretty sure she’s right, it is a shoe horn. But it looks cool and it stirred the chile just fine!
So I’m now calling it my “Spatu-loon-horn”, and thinking about a marketing plan and an infomercial for late night TV.
Next big thing I’m tell’n ya, big seller, big seller, just like "the amazing Mouli" !