USMB Coffee Shop IV

[peach174]

Morning !

 

[Foxfyre]

I keep trying to catch up, but still have 50 pages to go. Hope you are all doing well. I'm just wrapping up peak season at work. It has been brutal but fulfilling. The MIL is off doing the WA + Canada trip, visiting grandbabies for the summer. Mom doing well, no falls or surgeries to report. Husband still on the wagon. The kitten isn't anymore. Will post a recent pic when I get caught up. Xoxoxo

Tresha!!! So happy you stopped by. Glad to hear things are going well, especially with hubby. Just goes to show that one of those slips isn't fatal. While of course 'catching up' in the Coffee Shop isn't discouraged, this is the kind of place you can be away from and just come back and pick up wherever we are like in real life. I confess to being one who doesn't always read a long thread--check out the OP, maybe read back through a few posts, but the whole thing? Not often.

 

[Foxfyre]

Oh and good morning everybody. The sun is shining, and I do feel some better so far--we'll see how it goes as the day progresses. Our trusty GE electric range decided the oven wasn't going to work any more yesterday and I can't run the kitchen without an oven. Probably just an element, but because some of the burners are also showing their age, we will probably replace it today. Don't know how old it was when we moved into this house in 1999 but it had some age on it then, so I think we've probably gotten our money's worth out of it. But do I feel like making the trip to Lowe's to buy a new one? They have the best prices by far for what I want--checked out everything on line last night.

 

[Nosmo King]

Of course there's a story about my first day in Pimplebutt.

I had all my furniture and clothes and sundries stored in a rental storage locker. This place also rented moving vans, a great idea. The trucks they had were Swedish sons-of-bitches where the driver sits in front of the front axle and the windshield is about the size of a billiard table. The gal at the counter asked, "Can you drive that?" as she gestured toward the moving truck.

Confident and young, I answered with a cocky "Sure!".

My buddies and I proceeded to load the truck, turn in the padlock to the storage vault and head to the house. One of my friends was already there and directed me into the parking spot out front. Perhaps you should see a snapshot of the front of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate to fully appreciate the lay of the land.

As you can see, it's a steep slope. Reverse in a moving van is a tricky procedure especially that Swedish son-of-a-bitch. So, my friend stood at the curb and waved me into the space as a runway attendant waves a 747 into the loading bay. A wave to the left, a quick jerk of the hands to the right and I did my level best to maneuver on a less than level street.

I felt a slight bump off the right rear bumper and noticed my friend wince. I climbed from the driver's seat, walked uphill to the rear of the van and noticed that the left front fender, headlight bezel, turn signal assembly and front bumper of my new next door neighbor's Ford F-150 pickup truck were all hanging from the rear step of that big Swedish son-of-a-bitch! Here I was moving in and I had already pretty much totaled my neighbor's truck.

It was a hot day, that day in June and school was out. Other neighbors were outside ostensibly doing lawn work, but curious about their new neighbor. I had to go next door to explain why his pickup truck now needed picking up. I stood at his door and knocked. I knew he was inside as the TV was on. I knocked again and still no response. As I turned to leave, he must have seen my reflection on his television screen and arose to greet me.

"Hi! I am your new neighbor and I'm afraid I ran into your truck." I explained.

"Eh?" he said cupping his hand to his ear. What I did not know at the time was he was a veteran of the Second World War. He served in an artillery unit and between shelling German positions in France and the constant din of the steel mill he had worked at for the thirty years after his service, he had gone profoundly deaf.

"I JUST MOVED IN NEXT DOOR AND I'M SORRY BUT I WRECKED YOUR TRUCK!" I shouted back.

This made all the neighbors stop the charade of lawn work and draw their attention to me. Meanwhile my friends had emptied the moving van, dumping everything unceremoniously into the Great Hall and cracked open the cooler of beer I provided. They took their seats along the front portico and giggled as I explained to my neighbor, and all neighbors what I did. Then, after the police came to write the report, my friends assured me that they had a capital time watching all this go down on my first day in the neighborhood.

 

[Foxfyre]

This is June 1 and the 25th anniversary of my ownership of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate. That's right. they gave me the keys a quarter century ago this very day.

In the intervening years, I've replaced the roof, the front portico, all the windows, the HVAC system, two water heaters, upgraded the electrical system to 200 amps, renovated the Great Hall, kitchen, bath, office and bedroom. I've planted new landscaping, tore out some old and planted flower beds and boxes every year.

The house was built in 1949 and I am the longest tenured owner. I take pride of ownership and have hopefully assured that the place will stand intact for the next twenty five years.

Well Happy Birthday to the Pimplebutt Estate. We've never lived anywhere for even close to 25 years. The only thing other than some keepsake kinds of things that we have that are that old is the 9' Schefflera in our living room. We got it as a fairly small house plant in 1985, soon after we moved to Albuquerque. And it has grown enormously since then and is still going strong.

 

[Montrovant]

It's after midnight, so it is technically the little one's birthday now. 6 years! Before I started doing this I probably would have made a good poster child for who not to hire as a nanny.

What did you get her?

An inside and an outside toy. A SpongeBob video game (she loves SpongeBob) and a self-pitch doohickey; you step on a button and it pushes a wiffle ball up on air for you to hit with a bat. Like this :

 

[Foxfyre]

It's after midnight, so it is technically the little one's birthday now. 6 years! Before I started doing this I probably would have made a good poster child for who not to hire as a nanny.

What did you get her?

An inside and an outside toy. A SpongeBob video game (she loves SpongeBob) and a self-pitch doohickey; you step on a button and it pushes a wiffle ball up on air for you to hit with a bat. Like this :

How fun. Hombre and I would have fun with that.

 

[Foxfyre]

Of course there's a story about my first day in Pimplebutt.

I had all my furniture and clothes and sundries stored in a rental storage locker. This place also rented moving vans, a great idea. The trucks they had were Swedish sons-of-bitches where the driver sits in front of the front axle and the windshield is about the size of a billiard table. The gal at the counter asked, "Can you drive that?" as she gestured toward the moving truck.

Confident and young, I answered with a cocky "Sure!".

My buddies and I proceeded to load the truck, turn in the padlock to the storage vault and head to the house. One of my friends was already there and directed me into the parking spot out front. Perhaps you should see a snapshot of the front of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate to fully appreciate the lay of the land.

As you can see, it's a steep slope. Reverse in a moving van is a tricky procedure especially that Swedish son-of-a-bitch. So, my friend stood at the curb and waved me into the space as a runway attendant waves a 747 into the loading bay. A wave to the left, a quick jerk of the hands to the right and I did my level best to maneuver on a less than level street.

I felt a slight bump off the right rear bumper and noticed my friend wince. I climbed from the driver's seat, walked uphill to the rear of the van and noticed that the left front fender, headlight bezel, turn signal assembly and front bumper of my new next door neighbor's Ford F-150 pickup truck were all hanging from the rear step of that big Swedish son-of-a-bitch! Here I was moving in and I had already pretty much totaled my neighbor's truck.

It was a hot day, that day in June and school was out. Other neighbors were outside ostensibly doing lawn work, but curious about their new neighbor. I had to go next door to explain why his pickup truck now needed picking up. I stood at his door and knocked. I knew he was inside as the TV was on. I knocked again and still no response. As I turned to leave, he must have seen my reflection on his television screen and arose to greet me.

"Hi! I am your new neighbor and I'm afraid I ran into your truck." I explained.

"Eh?" he said cupping his hand to his ear. What I did not know at the time was he was a veteran of the Second World War. He served in an artillery unit and between shelling German positions in France and the constant din of the steel mill he had worked at for the thirty years after his service, he had gone profoundly deaf.

"I JUST MOVED IN NEXT DOOR AND I'M SORRY BUT I WRECKED YOUR TRUCK!" I shouted back.

This made all the neighbors stop the charade of lawn work and draw their attention to me. Meanwhile my friends had emptied the moving van, dumping everything unceremoniously into the Great Hall and cracked open the cooler of beer I provided. They took their seats along the front portico and giggled as I explained to my neighbor, and all neighbors what I did. Then, after the police came to write the report, my friends assured me that they had a capital time watching all this go down on my first day in the neighborhood.

I've seen several photos of your house over the years Nosmo, but it doesn't seem to matter what angle you use to photograph it--it still looks like the house is tilted.

 

[Foxfyre]

 

[Nosmo King]

Of course there's a story about my first day in Pimplebutt.

I had all my furniture and clothes and sundries stored in a rental storage locker. This place also rented moving vans, a great idea. The trucks they had were Swedish sons-of-bitches where the driver sits in front of the front axle and the windshield is about the size of a billiard table. The gal at the counter asked, "Can you drive that?" as she gestured toward the moving truck.

Confident and young, I answered with a cocky "Sure!".

My buddies and I proceeded to load the truck, turn in the padlock to the storage vault and head to the house. One of my friends was already there and directed me into the parking spot out front. Perhaps you should see a snapshot of the front of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate to fully appreciate the lay of the land.

As you can see, it's a steep slope. Reverse in a moving van is a tricky procedure especially that Swedish son-of-a-bitch. So, my friend stood at the curb and waved me into the space as a runway attendant waves a 747 into the loading bay. A wave to the left, a quick jerk of the hands to the right and I did my level best to maneuver on a less than level street.

I felt a slight bump off the right rear bumper and noticed my friend wince. I climbed from the driver's seat, walked uphill to the rear of the van and noticed that the left front fender, headlight bezel, turn signal assembly and front bumper of my new next door neighbor's Ford F-150 pickup truck were all hanging from the rear step of that big Swedish son-of-a-bitch! Here I was moving in and I had already pretty much totaled my neighbor's truck.

It was a hot day, that day in June and school was out. Other neighbors were outside ostensibly doing lawn work, but curious about their new neighbor. I had to go next door to explain why his pickup truck now needed picking up. I stood at his door and knocked. I knew he was inside as the TV was on. I knocked again and still no response. As I turned to leave, he must have seen my reflection on his television screen and arose to greet me.

"Hi! I am your new neighbor and I'm afraid I ran into your truck." I explained.

"Eh?" he said cupping his hand to his ear. What I did not know at the time was he was a veteran of the Second World War. He served in an artillery unit and between shelling German positions in France and the constant din of the steel mill he had worked at for the thirty years after his service, he had gone profoundly deaf.

"I JUST MOVED IN NEXT DOOR AND I'M SORRY BUT I WRECKED YOUR TRUCK!" I shouted back.

This made all the neighbors stop the charade of lawn work and draw their attention to me. Meanwhile my friends had emptied the moving van, dumping everything unceremoniously into the Great Hall and cracked open the cooler of beer I provided. They took their seats along the front portico and giggled as I explained to my neighbor, and all neighbors what I did. Then, after the police came to write the report, my friends assured me that they had a capital time watching all this go down on my first day in the neighborhood.

I've seen several photos of your house over the years Nosmo, but it doesn't seem to matter what angle you use to photograph it--it still looks like the house is tilted.

As the photographer is tilted on the slope, the camera is tilted and therefore..

Aww hell. The house is tilted. If you dropped a tennis ball in the bathroom, it would not stop rolling until it got to the kitchen wall.

 

[Ringel05]

Of course there's a story about my first day in Pimplebutt.

I had all my furniture and clothes and sundries stored in a rental storage locker. This place also rented moving vans, a great idea. The trucks they had were Swedish sons-of-bitches where the driver sits in front of the front axle and the windshield is about the size of a billiard table. The gal at the counter asked, "Can you drive that?" as she gestured toward the moving truck.

Confident and young, I answered with a cocky "Sure!".

My buddies and I proceeded to load the truck, turn in the padlock to the storage vault and head to the house. One of my friends was already there and directed me into the parking spot out front. Perhaps you should see a snapshot of the front of the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate to fully appreciate the lay of the land.

As you can see, it's a steep slope. Reverse in a moving van is a tricky procedure especially that Swedish son-of-a-bitch. So, my friend stood at the curb and waved me into the space as a runway attendant waves a 747 into the loading bay. A wave to the left, a quick jerk of the hands to the right and I did my level best to maneuver on a less than level street.

I felt a slight bump off the right rear bumper and noticed my friend wince. I climbed from the driver's seat, walked uphill to the rear of the van and noticed that the left front fender, headlight bezel, turn signal assembly and front bumper of my new next door neighbor's Ford F-150 pickup truck were all hanging from the rear step of that big Swedish son-of-a-bitch! Here I was moving in and I had already pretty much totaled my neighbor's truck.

It was a hot day, that day in June and school was out. Other neighbors were outside ostensibly doing lawn work, but curious about their new neighbor. I had to go next door to explain why his pickup truck now needed picking up. I stood at his door and knocked. I knew he was inside as the TV was on. I knocked again and still no response. As I turned to leave, he must have seen my reflection on his television screen and arose to greet me.

"Hi! I am your new neighbor and I'm afraid I ran into your truck." I explained.

"Eh?" he said cupping his hand to his ear. What I did not know at the time was he was a veteran of the Second World War. He served in an artillery unit and between shelling German positions in France and the constant din of the steel mill he had worked at for the thirty years after his service, he had gone profoundly deaf.

"I JUST MOVED IN NEXT DOOR AND I'M SORRY BUT I WRECKED YOUR TRUCK!" I shouted back.

This made all the neighbors stop the charade of lawn work and draw their attention to me. Meanwhile my friends had emptied the moving van, dumping everything unceremoniously into the Great Hall and cracked open the cooler of beer I provided. They took their seats along the front portico and giggled as I explained to my neighbor, and all neighbors what I did. Then, after the police came to write the report, my friends assured me that they had a capital time watching all this go down on my first day in the neighborhood.

I've seen several photos of your house over the years Nosmo, but it doesn't seem to matter what angle you use to photograph it--it still looks like the house is tilted.

As the photographer is tilted on the slope, the camera is tilted and therefore..

Aww hell. The house is tilted. If you dropped a tennis ball in the bathroom, it would not stop rolling until it got to the kitchen wall.

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse.
And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

There was a Crooked Man rhyme

 

[Ringel05]

Last night the weather man said it was going to be really hot and muggy today......... Wonder what he meant by muggy...... The humidity's been reading in the negative range all day......
Taking a nice dip in the pool helped and with the temp near 100 I've been running the swamp cooler and AC unit.

 

[peach174]

crooked house

Tilted House

Nosmo's house is tilted.

 

[Ringel05]

crooked house

Tilted House

Nosmo's house is tilted.

There once was a tilted man just doesn't sound right unless one is referring Don Quixote in the past tense.......

 

[Sherry]

 

[saveliberty]

Well, it took 30 hours, but I finally untangled myself from Ringel's barbed wire. Yarn indeed!

 

[ChrisL]

It's after midnight, so it is technically the little one's birthday now. 6 years! Before I started doing this I probably would have made a good poster child for who not to hire as a nanny.

What did you get her?

An inside and an outside toy. A SpongeBob video game (she loves SpongeBob) and a self-pitch doohickey; you step on a button and it pushes a wiffle ball up on air for you to hit with a bat. Like this :

Oh, how cute! That toy looks like fun too!

 

[Ringel05]

Well, it took 30 hours, but I finally untangled myself from Ringel's barbed wire. Yarn indeed!

 

[gallantwarrior]

Introducing my neck of the woods.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/10/travel/things-to-do-in-36-hours-in-san-luis-obispo.html?WT.mc_id=2015-MAY-AOL-TRAVEL_ADRISK-0501-0531&WT.mc_ev=click&ad-keywords=MAYADRISK&icid=maing-grid7|main5|dl23|sec3_lnk3&pLid=412961502

I used to love that area. We would drive Hwy 1 on weekends on our motorcycles, what a trip! I used to hang glide down in those parts, too!

 

[gallantwarrior]

Well, it's been another Red Letter week in my career. Actually, the last two weeks have been nothing short of spectacular. In the normal course of a month, I complete somewhere in the neighborhood of eighty five inspections. Now, these are all over the county. But in the last two weeks I've conducted 1,479 inspections. I did all the public housing units in my hometown and the next town down river, Wellsville Ohio.

You may recall that I've described our local topography as an unmade bed. This area of Ohio features rolling ravines into steep valleys. I live at the Terminal Moraine of the glaciers that scoured out the Great Lakes. The glaciers stopped their southward slide a couple hundred thousand years ago and began to melt. The resulting constant flow of melted ice tore through the topsoil, ground through layers of slate and sandstone and left us with a geography that is flat at alternating banks of the Ohio River and a series of ridges of roughly equal height separated by deep valleys.

It was on one such hillside that, back in the early 1970s, it was decided to build a public housing development. They called their wonderland LaBelle Terrace. I'm not an accomplished architect, but I know bad architecture when I see it. I remember when I closed the mortgage on the Luxurious Pimplebutt Estate I was understandably nervous. With all the signatures and agreements involved in a mortgage, I rose from the desk in a nice office in the bank and forgot how I got into it. I turned left when I should have turned right. Right when the best course was a left. I turned to the closing officer and said "Who ever designed these offices must have gotten Ds in Architeure School!"

She shot me a look and said "My husband was the lead architect on our renovations."

Anyway, LaBelle Terrace has steep hillsides, literally hundred of steps, steep ramps and no parking. Wherever you can park means either a long descent or an arduous ascent to your apartment. Then the apartments themselves are two or three stories high. Some have sunken living rooms and four flights of stairs. This place has bad architecture in spades.

After a full day of huffing and puffing up and down the steps, hills and ramps built to allow residents to get to their apartments, my heart was beating like the tympani section in a Tchichovski symphony. I had scheduled all the units in the steepest section for yesterday. I looked up the hill and saw four more units. I started to climb yet another flight of steps and trudge up another steep ramp.

I was sucking air like a Dyson vacuum, the peripheral focus was getting fuzzy and little sparklers appeared before my eyes. I looked to read the house numbers on the final four and saw an extremely portly man sunning himself is a lounge chair. He was bald and had a look of total contentment on his moonlike face.

I thought to myself, 'After a long and difficult journey, after such a trying climb up the mountain and encountering a man of such generous carriage, I should receive enlightenment!'

But it turned out not to be an incarnation of the Buddah. It was just a fat guy in LaBelle Terrace.

Bad architecture! And I'm reading "The Fountainhead". All about bad architecture, and other stuff, too!