Sunday, October 7, 2012

This & That

I've cramps in my hands as a result of my new hobby. Palm sanders and drill motors with wire wheels attached in use for several hours will take its toll. I'm now thinking seriously of the purchase of a portable table top bead blaster. I'd love to own a nice large sand blaster but its not within my budget, nor do I have the space.

It's hell to be poor.

Progress has been made on the new project. This is the body of an early Coleman 425 made in 1970. She was a victim of a flood and had sat under several feet of water for days. I've owned her since about 1977. The brown paint is primer.

She was in sad shape when recovered. I've three more stoves after her to restore. My next will be a Sears stove manufactured by Coleman. Somewhere between stove projects I must try my hand at the restoration of a couple of lanterns. This stuff is fun...


At one point this afternoon I came inside to wash my hands. It made me realize I need a bar of old fashioned Lava soap. I remember my father always had several bars on hand. It was kept outside at what was referred to as 'the helps sink.'  It was nothing more than a hose bib and a bench with an old enameled pan atop with an worn out towel to dry ones hands.

I hated the gritty feel of Lava but the stuff worked.

I've been using Goop but find it just doesn't have the cleaning power I need. Time to change.


I skipped lunch today so treated myself to a slice of Key Lime pie and a cold glass of milk. Not the shameful stuff you poor Yankees must eat but the real thing. Southern made, with real Key Lime juice.

Like this -

If you order Key Lime pie and its body is brightly colored you've been ripped off. Sorry about that.

If you'd like a slice you'd better hurry. The pie must be gone before Sweet Wife arrives home tomorrow, otherwise she's gonna kick my butt.


A friend recently mentioned he thought I'd like a series available on Netflix titled, 'The Tudors.' Said it was a Showtime production. A period piece, which I like...we'll see.




It's so quiet in my house. The only sound is the whirl of the ceiling fan and the tick of my tide clock as it counts down the hours to the next high tide. I am alone.

It isn't bad, being alone. Many hate it. They can't deal with solitude. Most feel they must fill the lonely hours with activity as a means to occupy the empty space of lost companionship. I deal with my status of temporary bachelorhood as an opportunity. It gives me a reason and purpose to think, listen, and tackle small projects otherwise taken with partnership of husband and wife.

This blogpost is a fine example.  I'm been slack of late in the stewardship of my blog and blog friends. I have a valid excuse yet will not use it as such and must sincerely apologize for my lack of posting and failure to comment on your blogs in kind.

My lovely wife and companion has packed and traveled  north into the great state of Georgia to visit her mother. After I preformed routine maintenance to her car, she gave me a kiss and was gone.

Yesterday, after work, I made a quick run to our local Publix and stocked my larder with various foods that required little prep but offered great satisfaction to one befitting my status. Chips and salsa, summer sausage, bread and milk, always, clam chowder. I also snatched a box of chicken wings as they were on sale at half price. I'm set for the weekend.

Now I have a full day of aloneness. I'll soon retreat to my garage and continue with my current restoration project. It'll kill the rest of the day. Then, after a good shower, I've a new novel to read, that is if I can convince my feeble altered mind to concentrate long enough to stay focused upon the words. If not, well, there is always Netflix as a last resort.

The birds are singing. Somewhere, far off, I also hear a leaf blower. The ceiling fan still whirls and pushes air, the tide clocks ticks, and I hear my little inner voice begging me to stand and work...guess I should give in and do as it tells me.