Patience. And a wet vac.

And a compressor helped as well.

I've had a "fun" week.  Nothing major really,  just a bit of a fight with the washing machine.  And Dammit,  I wasn't going to phone a repair man.

So,  there I am,  lounging in front of the idiot box,  with the sound of a load of laundry coming from out in the hallway (whatever you call that area where we have our laundry facilities and boiler) when I hear,  "beep beep beep".   And then,  "beep beep beep".   I mute the TV and no, it's not coming from the TV.   It's the washing machine.  And the display indicates,  "E20".   Da hell?   Didn't need to look in the manual at first to realise that,  something was seriously wrong.

Didn't think to take a picture right away,   but this is after I had already started cleaning up the mess.  Took out the drawer under the cabinet,  so as to place a bucket under the clean out.

Can you see the feathers on the door? 

Yup,  washing a pillow.  It exploded.

Can't think of anyone whom I dislike enough to wish this upon.   Seriously.  Not a fun time.

I've become intimately familiar with the workings of a front load washing machine.  Unlike a top loader,  where there's one drum and an agitator (where your knickers are likely to get wrapped around the spindle)  a front loader has an inner drum (the spinny bit)  and a water tight outer drum. 
Of course,  95% of the feathers were trapped between the inner and outer drums. 
Maybe a repair man (person?) would opt to take apart the two,  but trust me,  it would be a major undertaking.  Probably would cost more than what the machine is worth.
And at first,  it was so packed with feathers,  that the drum wouldn't even spin.  And when I had fished out several gobs of feathers with my highly sophisticated tool, (a bit of hanger wire with a hook on the end) I did manage to get it to spin,  but boy did it ever make some weird complaining types of sounds.

That milestone was like,  last Sunday?  It's all a blur.  I did start this ordeal a week ago.  That I know.

Of course,  T.C. was already looking at new machines,  but there's really nothing wrong with this one,  except that Muggins here didn't check the seams on the pillow that was getting washed. 

Silly bunt.

Naturally,  due to some sort of algorithm,  now all I see are ads for washing machines come up on just about every web page I visit.  Gotta be careful what you search for.  Looking for blue pills?  Ya,  that won't be a secret for long.


Anyhoo,  I think we've finally turned the corner on the feather situation.  There was a time there,  when it would in fact drain without any problem,  but I'd still get a handful of feathers in the clean-out.  I did briefly entertain the thought of hooking up a hose to spray around inside the drum in hopes of dislodging feathers. 

I decided to pass on that,  as I just didn't want one more thing to create a potential mess.

Down at the bottom of the machine there,  just above that bucket,  there's a little doo-hickey that you twist out,  and it's a filter.  It catches all the random coins, safety pins etc. that get past the drum.


And now,  I'm seriously considering emptying the wet vac for the last time,  and turning it back into a shop vac,  and then replacing the drawer under the cabinet,  and putting back the other mobile cabinet that normally resides next to the machine.  Until the control board goes,  or the computer,  or one of the two pumps,  or the belt,  that machine will keep on working.   But hey,  at least I now know how to replace the belt.   The other stuff?  Meh.   We'll let a few years roll by,  and see how we feel about that.

Hope y'all are doing well.

Thanks for stopping by and moving your eyes back and forth.

Keep that stick on the ice.

Big day today.

It's garbage day!   Whoohoo!

*snort*

And,  yard waste,  and recycling,  and well,  it's enough to get motivate me to get dressed this morning.

And,  and.

Well,  that's really the extent of it.

T.C. is making masks for members of the family.  I think she's up to around 25 or 30 by now,  most of which have been delivered.   She did get a request for masks from one of our nieces and her gang,  with the query as to "how much?"   But,  T.C. isn't doing this to make any money,  she's just making masks.  She has all kinds of material,  although we're waiting (and waiting) for more elastic to come from God knows where.  Had we known it was on a slow boat from China,  I suspect we might have tried to source some elsewhere. 

She can manage in the meanwhile.

I swear I see more delivery vehicles roaming around the neighbourhood than....anything.
And that's OK,  as I certainly don't miss all the Moms racing around the corner to get their kids to school on time.   I swear we could just take down the stop sign at the corner and nothing would change.

Of course there are the folks out walking their kids to try and either keep them occupied or at least burn off a little energy.   I'm sure many,  many folks with school aged kids have a new appreciation for the teachers in their kids lives.  Just a thought.


Of course,  there's the odd "Covidiot"  out and about. 

Now,  how do I know?   Well for example,  if the neighbour's "kid"  (he's probably in his twenties by now)  is heading out somewhere with his dirtbike on the back of his pick-up truck?   What kind of "essential service"  would he be performing?

Entertaining the medical staff in the parking lot of the local hospital? 

Right.

This was on the front of the local rag that arrived on our driveway yesterday.   And no,  this isn't the "propaganda" one.  Just the local offering that used to have way more flyers,  and now has been reduced to not much of anything.  The big change came after the shut down.

I actually liked the flyers.   But,  now all the stores have that sort of thing "on line". 
 

I didn't have to read the article to totally get the gist.  Of course we want to shop locally.  We (this household,  and the kids)  have been doing that for years.  Trouble is,  not everyone either can or is willing to go to the extra effort. 

And they say that the Farmer's Market might not reopen for quite some time.  Yikes.   That will suck.

I'd be willing to drive around the countryside seeking out all the farms that would have come to the market,  and doing some sort of "end of driveway"  thing.   I mean,  fuel costs wouldn't be a big deal. 

Anyhoo,  I'm still farting around with the table that I'm stripping.   Just not looking forward to sanding the bendy bits.

Had to take it apart to make it a bit easier to work on.

I do some as I feel like it.  It's not like the little project I had last year when I was "on the clock".   This is for my nephew and his wife.   He's the kind of fellow whom you can call for help,  and he'll be there.  Being as he's a fireman,  he was the guy to call to help with putting stain on the front of the house last summer,  way up there at the peak,  where Muggins here has very little desire to be.

Not only am I not crazy about heights,   but being that far up not just a scaffold,  but a step ladder ON TOP of the scaffold to boot. 

No sir.


Meanwhile,   T.C. tried her hand at making some treats for us. 

Because we're wasting away to nothing. 


Hope you are all well.

Thanks for stopping by.

And all the rest.

OK so, it's SNOWING!

Note: This was actually yesterday's post,  but somehow (somehow?)  I got lazy and didn't finish what I started.   BUT,  it's snowing again this morning. )


I wanted (like, really) wanted to put the "F" word in there.  But I think you get the drift.  That,  and of course the wind is blowing.
It's flippin' April 21st.

(No,  see above....)

That's about all I have on my mind at the moment. 

Well,  and I did just order some "stuff"  on line just now.  "Free delivery",  or you could order for pick up,  and they'd bring it out to your vehicle.   But then I'd have to,  I don't know,  drive there?

Mind you,  gas is so cheap right now,  that just driving around isn't such a huge deal, but why?  We've been so programmed to try and make every trip count,  and not run around aimlessly,  that it somehow just doesn't feel right to "go for a drive".  I know there are some who do,  and I do appreciate the need to keep from going bonkers,  so I'm OK with that.

Just not my thing.

Now,  speaking of making a trip for nothing,  I did the trip to Costco this morning.

First of all,  Costco has set it up so that "Seniors and those with mobility issues"  can come in on Tuesday,  Wednesday and Thursday from between eight and nine.

Well,  even though the streets of Burlington seemed relatively calm and I dare say deserted,  that was NOT the case this morning at Costco.  And this was at about 7:45.  Somehow I think that every flippin' senior in town was lined up to get in to Costco.   I mean like,  they were lined up around the building. 

And as we well know,  it's a BIG big building.


First of all,  my left knee has been giving me some grief today (weather related?  possibly)  so without a cart to lean on,  that was reason number one why this wasn't the place for me.   The reason number two?   Number Two.
Let me repeat that.   Number Two.

Early in the morning?  Old guy?

I do vividly recall shitting myself when I was about four, maybe?  That sensation of having a nice warm turd just hanging there right below the crack of yer arse is something that one tends to remember for a long,  long time.

Needless to say,  it's a memory that'd I'd prefer to not revisit.  Once was enough.

Now,  I realise there may come a day,  maybe twenty,  thirty years from now?   Let's not even think about it.


Anyhoodle,  T.C.  and I made a little trip to see each of the Daughter Units to drop off some Muffin Mix (it's a Mom thing) .  Plus,  Daughter Number One had been lamenting the fact that,  normally she only makes coffee at home on the weekends,  as she's one of those commuter types,  and she's been going through her really pricey fancy coffee,  so I took her some of the cheap stuff.  I just drink the cheap stuff.    No cat pooped coffee for me.  (There's a bit of a poop theme going on here.)

These deliveries took place some time around three in the afternoon,  so we thought,  "Why not at least drive by the Costco and see how it looks?"   It didn't look that bad!
So we went in.   You can't just wander in.   They're only allowing so many in the store,  but we were maybe only number 10 in line.
Of course,  there are still a few boneheads who still haven't cottoned on to the procedure.  One old guy was either trying to cut in to get a cart or whatever,  and was informed by the staff that he had to get in line and they'd give him a (freshly sanitised) cart.   He then walked past me,  said something or other,  and touched my shoulder!   What the actual fuck!?
That coat is hanging up out in the garage.   Don't fucking touch me! 
Even when there's no Goddamned Pandemic,  don't touch me!

And that's not to say I wanted to knock him on his ass or anything.  I think he was just trying to be friendly.  Plus,  knocking him on his ass would involve having to touch him. Gah!

Well,  out weekly "Meeting"  with my breakfast group is about to start.  So that's it for me.


Hope y'all are well.

Thanks for stopping by and moving your eyes back and forth.

Dinner, wine, and a saxophone.

 So,  I had slapped a pic over on The Book of Face and thought,  "hm,  why not write up a few words here abouts?"

And here we are. 

Every so often ,  Travelling Companion gets these ideas,  that she wants to drop off dinner for the "kids".   I think the idea is,  when she was working, coming up with dinner every night was a wee bit of a chore.  (this would be 'sarcastic font',  by the way)  Of course,  the major difference was,  she had two kids,  a husband who,  at the time,  rarely got home before eight at night,  and was studying for her Honours Economics degree.
So ya,  not the easiest.

Admittedly,  back in the days when we were poor as church mice,  the kids did go without from time to time, but never offered a hint of a complaint.  To this day,  Daughter Number One never did get her "Green Machine",  and I'm sure has forgotten all about it.   Of course,  it still bugs her Mom that we couldn't afford a "green machine",  so she could be out there with the neighbourhood kids.

But hey,  that's the way it was.   We came out unscathed.  Although,  I think the lowest point was when we actually got a "care" package from the Church.   It's funny the things one remembers.  It wasn't the "best of times".  And let's just leave it at that.

Now,  in light of the whole "social distancing" thing,  we haven't seen much of the kids at all.  And in this case,  dropping off food basically means keeping our distance,  and just exchanging pleasantries.

We've done this before however,  this time around,  Daughter Number One asked if we could spare a bottle of wine,  and could she perhaps borrow my saxophone?   I figured,  what the hell.  I rarely pick the thing up,  so why not?  I doubt that she has any of her own reeds,  but I don't really care.  I'm sure she'll tire of it in a few days.   And yes,  I have a saxophone.  And no,  I won't be putting anything on YouTube.   I suck.
Once upon a time,  I was reasonably proficient,  if I do say so myself.   But not having picked the thing up for well over forty years can do a bit of a number on ones abilities?  Shall we say?

Please note the proper "social distancing".

Just wanted to point that out.

So,  Daughter Number One and hubby have been working from home for a few weeks now,  and it seems to be going OK.  She works in interior design,  and at the present time,  all construction has ceased in the Province of Ontario,  so she's going to find out at the end of the week whether or not she'll be getting laid off.  Getting "laid off"  here abouts means still getting some money,  depending on the number of years of service one has.  She's been at this same firm for over 10 years.   Seems to me,  that's one week of pay for every year of service.  You can correct me if you think you know better.

Either way,  they'll be fine.  She's quite looking forward to getting laid off,  but of course, with the Pandemic lurking about,  it doesn't mean she be gadding about any time soon.  So,  kind of a bummer.

Anyhoodle,  hope y'all are hanging in there. 

I'm not at the point yet where I'm yearning for the building supply stores to reopen,  although that day may come soon enough.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep that stick on the ice.

And wash your hands.

Well, I had to do it.

Go out,  that is.

I think there was a slight welling up of panic when I realised that the coffee container that I was about to empty was not the second last one,  but the last one!

Gah!
 
Gotta step up my game when it comes to knowing what I have in store,  as I thought I had a spare.  I always have a spare.

So,  I sucked it up and went to Costco.   And I must say,  they've figured it out.

First of all,  I did have to go out early Monday morning,  as we were getting down on the bread end of things,  and the store down the street had an hour set aside for "old folks"  from seven to eight.  AND,  unlike the store where T.C. had to go to last week,  these guys had a security guard at the entrance way,  sort of eyeing everyone on their way in so as to make sure they were in fact seniors. 
Apparently,  I qualify.   No need for I.D. 
Not sure if that should sadden me or not.
And it was not crowded in the least.
I made sure to profusely thank all the employees for being there that early.

Anyway,  Costco also has an hour set aside before they open,  from eight until nine on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday for seniors but unfortunately,  I didn't get that memo in time,  so I went for normal hours. 

Not a huge deal.

I naively grabbed a cart from one of the corrals to take in with me,  but that wasn't needed,  as they were sanitising all the carts just as you went in,  so no need for the gloves or wipes on my part.  AND,  they had two distinct areas/lines set up,  divided by piles of skids,  so as to separate those going in,  from those coming out.  We did have to line up,  with everyone far enough apart for proper distancing etiquette.   Plus,  there was a bit of a wait,  as they were only allowing a certain number of shoppers in at once.  I read somewhere that the number was 50,  but don't quote me.

Then it was pretty much easy peasy from then on,  as they had everything that was on my list.  And no,  I didn't need toilet paper,  although I did see that they had boatloads. 

Then,  coming out,  there were two distinct lines to get up to the check out area,  with hash marks on the floor as a reminder of proper distancing etiquette once again.  It was very orderly.   Didn't have to put my groceries on the belt.  Had a spot to stand as it was being rung up,  the cashier scanned my Costco card from about six feet away (a bit of overkill I thought)  and I only really had to come in contact with the payment terminal,  which her assistant had just wiped down.  I had sanitiser with me and gave my hands a going over after all that as well.

Oh and,  they didn't do that whole checking off your crap against your receipt thing either.  I never did understand that.  Like they're able to tell if you've got all your goods?  Really?  Or that you somehow miraculously were able to slip an extra huge bag of flour onto your cart?

They had removed one of the terminals at each end of the line of terminals in order to make extra room.  This was a welcome change from the way it had always been,  where your cart goes one way,  and you're forced into an area next to the other member behind you.  I never did like that.

And,  as I said to the cashier,  I've never liked it when fellow shoppers get too close to me anyway,  so I was completely good with the whole situation.    Like,  beyond happy.   Thinking up catchy T-shirt captions,  that sort of thing.*

I think I first started to notice folks being too close to me when we lived in Puerto Rico,  as fellow shoppers were forever getting well into my comfort zone.  Thankfully,  I'm taller than most Puerto Ricans,  so I never got any of the head colds that always seemed to be going around.  That's also probably where I really started to become a bit of a Germaphobe. 

Or maybe even before that?   Not sure.


Oh,  speaking of which,  and this was the only time I actually spoke with another shopper,  while standing in line,  I couldn't help but notice what I think was a lady who,  for what can only be due to paranoia,  was basically covered from head to toe in plastic.   She had plastic bags on her feet,  some sort of plastic bag on her torso.  Plastic bags on each leg.  A mask,  and the obligatory plastic bag on her head. 

I so wish I had taken my camera.

Oh and,  she was lining her cart with newspaper!   Newspaper!

Because apparently them spraying down all the carts just before they give you one wasn't enough, and somehow you can get a virus through your feet?
The floors were so clean you could eat off them.  And I dare say,  as a result of some of the over the top efforts of just about any place you can think of,  floors in public places these days are probably cleaner than most people's houses!


So,  the guy in front of me saw this at about the same time as me,  turned to me,  said not a word.   But I had to say,  "OK,  there's being prepared,  and then there's being paranoid."

But hey,  whatever floats yer boat.   I mean,  you can cut up an onion,  put it in your bedroom,  and as long as you never leave your bedroom,  you'll never get sick. 
True.
It probably works just as well with watermelon,  but they'd need to be in season.

No plans to go anywhere for a few days again,  as I'll head to the wine making place to pick up our new supply on Tuesday.   I was going to go today,  but let me just say,  it's surprising just how often one relies on one's back muscles for the simplest things?

No big deal.  I've done this before.  Just happened to bend down the wrong way,  and ouch!
I'll be better by Tuesday I'm sure.  Just...putting on socks this morning was....a chore. 

Annoyingly,  I have a few things in the house that need shifting around,  which normally T.C. and I could manage together,  so that's out the window.  Plus of course,  I can't even call on one of the Daughter Units or Sons-in-law to come help,  as we don't want to have anyone come to the house. 


Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

And wash your hands.



*I'm thinking of a caption like,  "Now I can say it.  Get the f**k away from me!"

It sure is quiet out there.

My life as a recluse continues.  I'm sure the money that we've saved by T.C. not going to get her hair or nails done has helped offset the money we've lost on the market.

But only slightly.

Thankfully,  it's all just numbers on a screen,  as we have these wonderful things that the kids these days don't have called "Pensions".
Ya,  you can mock me all you want,  you Millenials,  or Gen Xers or whatever you're called,  but just make sure you start saving your cash. 
It is indeed unfortunate if your entire pension income is dependant on returns from the market,  but I've never thought that that was such a good plan to start with. 
That's all I'm gonna say on that.

At some point in the morning,  when I'm starting to melt into the couch,  I muster up my strength to step away from the computer and actually go and DO something.

The sorry thing is,  by the time mid afternoon rolls around,  my energy level is starting to wane ever so slightly,  and I start to have thoughts of  "mañana" .   There's always tomorrow.

I do have this one particular Rose of Sharon that needs to be moved.  I'm not looking forward to that.

There was some discussion in the fall about moving it,  and I really should have stuck to my guns on that one,  as the recommendation from several websites recommend doing so in the fall.   T.C. had other ideas,  so here we are.

I'll probably kill it.  Which would suck,  as I quite like the thing.  The trouble is,  it's right where I'm going to eventually put a fence post,  and if that happens,  I'd kill it for sure.

Supposed to rain tomorrow,  but maybe Friday?   We don't go to the Pub on Fridays anymore,  so it's not like there's some sort of time line during the day that I'd need to adhere to.


Admittedly,  the ground is going to be a heck of a sight softer than it would have been in the fall,  but that's hardly a consolation.   I was younger in the fall.

Well,  I see T.C. just emerged to cut herself a piece of Strudel,  so I think that might be the plan for the afternoon.  Then maybe a little snooze,  and then "we'll see".

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Housekeeping.

I've been remiss. 

Now that I take a closer look,  I see that there have been some comments hanging around in my "waiting for....something or other"  folder,  and at least a couple of them were legit.  So,  if any of you legit commenters out there didn't see your comment show up.  I do apologise.

Turns out,  most of them where just gibberish.  Wondering if I need a car loan,  or some other such nonsense.  Anyway,  I sort of forgot that there was such as thing as comment moderation.  Curiously,  none of them were offering "male enhancement".   Should I feel slighted,  or slightly smug?

Whatever.

Meanwhile,  I'm sure you're wondering in what upside down world we're living,  since I'm on here TWO DAYS IN A ROW. 
O. M.  G....

Well,  there's nothing on TV,  and I thought I'd take a stab at putting the little micro SD card in the side of this here brand new Chromebook that T.C. so very kindly got me for Christmas.   I did use a laptop once upon a time when we lived in Europe,  and lugged it around with me when we made little trips here and there.  But most of my photos are on the PC up in the office,  (which I should be backing up,  I might add)  and I haven't really decided if I want to have pictures on this device as well.   Oh and,  the laptop (an Acer,  I think)  lasted about five years,  and then started making funny noises,  and then ultimately wouldn't fire up.  It was a modified version of "Blue Screen of Death",  and anyone whom I spoke to,  basically said it wasn't worth the trouble to fix.  So off it went,  to Computer heaven.

Oh,  and I have to say,  once I more or less figured it out,  the Chromebook is indeed pretty awesome.  Not nearly as hot as a laptop (better batteries I suspect)  and runs heaps longer on a charge. Just have to get used to the keyboard,  and the "touchpad".  Still not keen on the touchpad.    I might have to suck it up and buy a cordless mouse.   We'll see.

   So,  let me explain that picture.

See,  T.C. wanted me to make her a towel rack.  While I realise that I renovated the upstairs bathroom and there's plenty of room to dry ones towels,  she's not keen on the way that looks.   Don't ask.

Do you think I could find something on "Wayfair"  or Amazon or some such place.   Or even Walmart for that matter?  Nope.

So I've been working on putting one together.  Of course,  I can't find any hint of plans out there (on the net, I mean),  so I had to conjure up something out of my pea brain.
It's painful.

And I realise,  what you see in the picture just looks like a bunch of sticks,  but there's some significance there.

I had completed all the various pieces,  got it all sorted "mechanically" speaking,  and then set about to start the finishing process.  And by that I mean, I broke out the sander.

Horrible,  horrible job.  Dust mask,  ear plugs.  Messy. Noisy.

You get the idea.

And then it occurred to me,  I do have these fancy schmancy hand planes that I try to keep razor sharp,  and shouldn't I be planing the wood to get it smooth???

When I came in for a tea break and mentioned this to T.C.,  along with admitting that "I'm an idiot",  it should be noted that she did agree with me without a moment's hesitation.

But I let that go.

I still have to sand the curvy bits,   but the hand planing program was heaps nicer.   I promise to take a photo of the finished product in due time.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep that stick on the ice.

And feel free to comment.  I'll make sure to check.

Observing National Poop Day.

Which is not really a "thing",  by the way.   But,  bear with me here.

See,  at one of our high level conversations at the Pub on Friday,  someone made mention of the notion that,  on the day after The Super Bowl,  (not sure how I should put this)  the amount of sewage heading off to the various treatment plants goes up considerably.

Like,  if there was a 'high gear'  at the local sewage treatment plant,  like that.

Speaking personally,  I think there just might be something to that notion.

This year once again,  T.C. and I went to our annual Super Bowl party,  and I must say,  there was a lot of food.  Like,  three crock pots of chili,  various snacks,  sweets,  and oh,  someone even brought Perogies.  They were just as good as anything else.
Plus,  there's always at least one birthday,  so we had cake!

We were all stuffed.   Or at least I was.   Didn't have a whole heap of desire to eat much come Monday either.  I won't go into any more details than that.


We're no longer in anything remotely like a deep freeze,  and as a matter of fact,  it was something like plus 14 (Celsius)  at one point yesterday.   I wasn't quite tempted to put my shorts on,  but a few degrees warmer and I just might have considered it.

Then of course,  the temperature has been consistently falling to the point where,  now we're expecting freezing rain over the next day or so.  It has been said that,  if you don't like the weather in Canada,  just wait a few days.


We heard some sad news on Saturday that one of T.C.'s former work associates had suddenly passed away,  so that was a bit of a shocker.   And then today I read that George Lehrer of The adventures of Tioga and George fame had passed away as well.   I know he had changed the name of his blog a few years back,  but that's the short cut that I had put in my browser to find his blog.

I had discovered George way back in 2003 when he first started blogging,  and was quite intrigued by the notion that you could live in a class C motorhome full time.  Not something I have any desire to do or anything, but as T.C. and I had a class A at the time,  there was some sort of commonality there.  Then of course,  one tends to "get hooked",  so to speak,  and when the fellow comes to the end,  it can be a bit tough.

There are others who come to mind:

There was Bruce and Margie Mallon,  who were run down and killed in Pismo Beach, California,  and then Rod Ivers,  who came home one day to discover that his wife Loyce and passed away,  only to then succumb to cancer within what I thought was not so very long afterwards.

Of course,  I do realise that,  none of us are getting out alive,  and I'm not quite sure why I get a little choked up when I hear of the passing of what is essentially a total stranger but,  "Blog Land"  seems to have a way of letting us become somehow more familiar with these total strangers than we'd perhaps like to admit.

Sadly,  they'll all be missed.

Thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.   I'll try and dry mine,  while I'm at it.

And then I get tired.

I've just about cleaned up my pile of left over wood that was left behind by Tree Cutting Dude.  Well,  actually by his two minions.  Which was OK with me,  but the way,  as it all burns.  

There's something about that whole bending over with the chain saw that does tend to tire a feller out.

Although,  after a bit of lunch and wee sit down,  T.C. and I did go up to her sister's place and rake and blow more leaves.  Oy.   She has a *lovely* back yard,  but that also means there are literally heaps of leaves to deal with.  Having said that,  T.C.'s sister is 84.   AND,  she was out there with us raking leaves like nobodies business.

(Now on to Tuesday)

Went back this morning and finished off her yard.

We're pretty sure she "won" that contest, in the most leaves department anyway.  Not that it's a competition.

It had rained a wee bit in the night,  which didn't really help.

They're here!   Or at least on our street.

Some years it starts snowing before they can get all the leaves,  which means they sort of get left.   Those trucks that are being used to haul away leaves are needed for snow removal.
It's coming.   There were a few flurries this morning,  as we were raking leaves.

We try to tell ourselves that it's "good exercise". 

Whatever.

So,  just another fall Tuesday.

Thanks for lookin'.

Got yesterday's forecast, today.

I usually check one of the radar sites any time we're about to head out on the water and of course,  today I didn't bother,  as I only had in mind to cut the grass.

Nope.










Um,  ya.   We're right in the line of fire,  so to speak.   Sure wish the folks out west were getting this rain.  I mean,  it saves me from watering the grass, which I'm never keen on doing anyway (it's GRASS!   It'll grow back!)    But we certainly don't need it as much as the folks suffering through wild fires.

Anyhoo,  had yet another "weekend on the water",  as the Yacht Club that we sail out of had it's annual "Bronte Rocks Regatta"  which consisted of three races around the "cans" on Saturday,  and then a point to point race on Sunday.

Saturday night,  the club puts out dinner and pitchers of margaritas.  Dinner was what I thought good value at 22 bucks,  while pitchers of margaritas were 25.   I'm not overly keen on margaritas it so happens,  although I did sip on about a half a glass,  just to do a toast.
The club does well selling pitchers of margaritas,  but for some reason they closed down the sale of pitchers by about 8:30.   We were late coming in off the water,  so I'm not sure why they thought to stick to their "schedule"  if in fact,  they had one.  Like I say,  selling pitchers of margaritas makes bags of money for the club.  No idea.
 Dinner was a combination of "cuban" food (can't for love nor money figure out how that was a thing,  but whatever)  and was very tasty.   Often times food served out of a chafing dish at these things can be bordering on horrid,  such as was the case last week at Newport.  And that was thirty bucks a plate.   Dry.  Tasteless.  And with the most useless plastic cutlery you could imagine.  Gawd.
So,  kudos to the team at Bronte for a well put on spread.  AND,  they had decent sized plastic cutlery. 
Hey, it makes a huge difference.  Gotta get it into your mouth somehow!



There were a couple minor,  let's just say,  "issues" on the race course on Saturday,  firstly as the race committee decided to delay the first race due to lack of wind.   Now,  we've experienced "lack of wind" before,  and I have to say that,  there was in fact enough wind to move the boats.   So we couldn't figure that one out.   Plus,  again for some frustrating reason that made no sense whatsoever,  they chose to change the direction of the coarse due to a slight wind shift.   We just figured,  "Know what?  It's wind!  It might shift!"   Sailors can usually figure that out.  If you can't,  well then maybe next time?


The other issue was,  we tore the sh*t out of one of our spinnakers,  and by "we", I really mean "me".   Pissed me off to no end.  The worst part being,  there was nobody to be pissed off at, other than just well...me.   Sucks when I suck.

Not sure if that one can be fixed.  I'll not bother you with details.  suffice to say,  Old Guy here must be having some cognitive issues or something.  I keep saying I'm "too old"  to work the fore-deck,  but our much younger and more agile Fore-deck Guy was unavailable for the weekend.  So that left it up to me.


Like I said, it was pretty much the latest we've ever come in from one of these around the cans type of deals,  with the time approaching 5:30.   I really wanted to get home and take a quick shower before heading back for dinner,  and dinner was supposedly schedule for six.   Just crazy.   I figured dinner would have to wait,  but it turned out that there was boatloads of food to go around.  Is that a pun?
Not sure.



And Sunday?   Much better.  The race was a "point to point",  and we only had a sprinkling of rain,  even though the weather prognosticators were calling for much worse.  Actually,  as I sit here listening to thunder all around us,  an electrical storm was what they had predicted for Sunday a few days back. 
Didn't happen.
I really sometimes wonder about the reliability of some of the weather prognosticators.  It's the only job I know of where you can be dead wrong,  and still keep your job!

Oh and,  Muggins here didn't manage to rip anything. 

I did take a few less than stellar photos,  and a couple of them are actually worth sharing.

At this point,  we had been on the water for well over an hour I would think,  and I was struck by the fact that these three boats managed to end up within the same 200 square meters of water.   I mean,  there were boats spread out over an area maybe a third the size of Rhode Island?   They're all heading for a derrick out in one end of the lake,  which was the turning point.

Lake Ontario is kinda huge,  but you knew that.

You can see that we're at least two thirds of the way to the Hamilton Lift Bridge at this point.  Just found this kind of incredible.


Here's the CCIW "spider" out in the Lake.   (Canada Centre for Inland Waters)   They use if for monitoring water temperature and stuff.  (like I have a clue.)

It's kinda hard to explain where this "mark" is,  and we typically put the coordinates into the onboard GPS,  and then know what landmark to look for when we're sort of getting within sight of the thing.

Point to point racing is heaps easier on all concerned,  so I wasn't quite so beat yesterday afternoon when I got home.   Still nice to get into the cooler air in the house though.
The thing is,  it's ALWAYS cooler on the water,  but then as you head back to the slip,  you're hit with this wall of hot humid air that's just bloody stifling.   For example,  Tuesday night we actually had to put on our jackets,  it was that cool on the water.
Yet murderously hot inland.

Today is the last day before some of my still working teacher friends have to go back to work,  although they've all be in their classrooms setting up over the last week or two.  Mostly in non air conditioned schools.   Bleah!
We have a tradition of getting together at the pub to toast those who are about to set off on a new school year in the morning.

There's really only going to be a small percentage this year,  as there are more and more retirees every year.  And sadly,  the one friend of ours who was one of the co-conspirators regarding this tradition passed away a couple years ago.   We still miss him.


That's it for today I think.

Thanks for stopping by.

The final application.

I hope.

I was actually starting to write "The final solution",  but that has a whole other meaning.  Not a good one.

Although,  we are talking about...  extermination.  But I'm only talking about wasps.  Honestly.

Man,  I'm digging myself a hole here.


The other morning,  I was out on what was then the shady side of the house knocking back the weeds,  and I realised that the hoe I was using had just the right shape that would allow me to pry off the top area of the trim without getting too close to the wasps.

So,  yesterday morning,  before they got too active,  I did just that,  which allowed me to see just what the heck was going on behind it.


Can't see much,  actually.

The ones that have survived are still going in and out of a tiny gap in the foam up there at the top.






This evening at dusk,  I got up there with a step ladder and sprayed in another dose of Wilson's "One Shot".

Even though really,  it's taken more than just the one shot.  Hate to say it.  I guess you're supposed to be able to get this stuff directly onto the nest,  but like I said, these guys are up in behind the foam insulation somehow.  No bueno.

I'll see if there are any dead bodies in the morning.   There were a few yesterday morning after I removed the trim,  but when I went back out to take another look,  they were mysteriously gone.  Maybe blew off?   Dunno.

Did a little more prep work on the painting end of things today.   I'm on to the next colour,  so I had to go back to one spot where it looked like I had a bit of a thin spot and put on a wee bit more.
Hate when that happens.

Wednesdays can be a bit of a wasted day for me anyway,  as I go to breakfast with a bunch of other old farts and generally complain about whatever is bugging us at the moment.  Right now it's the number of high rise condos that are being built in our downtown core.  Which is one of the reasons that Burlington has slipped way down to number 31 on the "livability"  scale that some group or other put out a while back.  We were ninth in 2017. 
Don't get me started.

Not sure how accurate it is,  but if they use the same criteria year after year,  then I suppose there's some credibility to the study.  Some magazine called Money Sense.

*****

Saw these suspicious looking characters wandering up the street yesterday.  This is what happens when you're painting with no window coverings and the camera is close at hand.

Think they're Jehovah's?

 Maybe Seventh Day Adventist.

    It's been a few years,  or I dare say *decades* since we've had anyone come to our door selling their particular brand of piety.  I think I've got the message across.
I won't elaborate.

Well, except that,  there was this time,  and this was the first summer we were here in 1992, when  two ladies came up the driveway and wanted to "chat".    I said I didn't mind,  but as I was cutting the grass at that very moment and it had to get done,  and they had interrupted the proceedings,  I simply asked which one of them wanted to keep doing the work?  You know,  so I could sit and "chat".
I *love* to sit and chat!

Hey, it's what I was doing this morning at breakfast!

However,  neither of them thought they were up to cutting the grass.  Lazy Bastards.
They looked fit to me.  I mean,  you do all that walking around lugging a bible or whatever,  you have to have a bit of stamina.  Don't you think?


All I know is, I've certainly never shown up at some stranger's door *uninvited*  and asked if we could "chat".   Like,  what are you thinking?

I realise that,  back in the Depression,  when men were truly down and out,  they might show up at a stranger's door asking if there might be a little food to spare,  but times have changed.  And those interlopers across the road look pretty healthy.

I think I'm getting off on a bit of a rant here,  so you can fill in the rest.  Or join in,  if you wish.

I suspect that's it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Here's hoping for a bit of cooler weather.

Well, that was a bit of a fail.

So,  for "Father's Day",  there were a few items that came my way,  one of which was a package containing two of these new fangled "copper cooking sheets"  for the BBQ. 

Now admittedly,  the Weber Q that I use is considered a "Grill"  as opposed to a BBQ,  but I figured I'd try out one of them anyway.

With pizza.

Hey,  there's a picture of them cooking pizza on the box,  so I figured it should work.  Right?

Meh.

Wrong.

It *looks* OK there,  but the bottom is getting burnt.  I had to quickly figure out how to get the pizza up off the grill a bit to sort of help it cook without completely charring the bottom,  so I used a ceramic pizza stone that I had stashed in the kitchen. 
We still ate most of the good parts.   The slightly *more* annoying part was,  this was a "home made" pizza,  which we prefer over most anything "store bought".

Oh well.

Hey,  maybe I'll try frying an egg,  or something...

Not sure why I'd do that,  and as for vegetables,  I already have a pan type of arrangement that works just fine.  I suppose if I had to do more than one thing,  and space was at a premium,  I'd whip out one of these sheets.  I certainly haven't given up on them just yet by any means.


Meanwhile,  the cuckoo clock repair saga continues,  and I think I've come up with a temporary solution.  Well,  maybe temporary in a more permanent way.  You'll see.

First of all,  I should mention that one of my daughter's friends/in laws needed some hair cutting practise,  as she's about to write her exam (there's exams for hair cutting??)  so after the word was put out for willing volunteers,  I figured I'd offer up my old noggin for some practise.

I used to do this sort of thing at the hair cutting class they used to have over at a local vocational school that one of our previous provincial governments in their infinite wisdom forced the local school board to close. 
A bit of a sore spot with me,  but whatever.

This of course,  was complete with a cuckoo clock tutorial. Because now I'm *so* qualified...*snort*!

And,  remember how I said that one of the local clock repair Dudes said that he never worked on cuckoo clocks in Germany,  and has carried on that tradition here in Canada? 
Well....I get it.
It's time consuming.   Like,  I'd have to charge more than a new clock would be worth.   Quite possibly including the cost to fly over to Bavaria and bring one home.

But I mostly looked on it as a challenge.  At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So my "solution" for the bellows problem?   Well,  I stole a working bellows out of the clock that we have here in the house,  and installed it in place of the one that needs work.

You'll notice on the left side there,  that one of the bellows is missing?   It's one half of the "cuckoo"   sound.  So the little bird was only going "coo...coo...coo..."   Not ....OK,  you get it.

So I brought our clock onto the operating table to do a transplant....

Of course,   when these guys (Cuckoo Clock Guys?)  put these things together,  it seems there's a bit of randomness involved when it comes to installing the bellows,  as the screw hole for holding the thing in place was not the same,  so that was a bit of trial and error,  but the patient has been put back together,  is running,  and we'll see if it continues to do so for a day or two before being set free.

Fascinating sh*t innit??

As it's bloody hot out today,  we're off later for a "pool party",  but I've promised to not take along the camera.

Wouldn't be prudent.

You'll just have to take my word for it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep that stick on the ice.

When you get the "yellow light".

Bit of a nice day today,  so I thought I'd do a little farting around outdoors.  On the sunny side of the house at this time of the year it's quite pleasant.  In the heat of the summer?  Not so much.

For the longest time now,  I've been meaning to remove the extra mortar that was put on the side of the house by the previous owner.   See,  he had this *interesting* idea that he wanted to have some sort of green house up against the side of the building,  but discovered after a couple seasons that it was mostly just a place to collect bugs.  Anyway,  it wasn't something we wanted to look at when we moved here,  so I ultimately took it away.  It was quite elaborate too,  with a metal frame and those corrugated Plexiglas panels and such.   On the one end,  there was a doorway,  so of course all the little spaces between the frame and the house had to be filled with mortar.

Probably better to show the pic I took yesterday.  I'm thinking of closing off that access with more fencing,  so I sent a note off the a company I've been dealing with.  Hence the need for a photo.

This is a slightly better angle:

After today's activity.  I still have a ways to go, but after a little bout with the pneumatic chisel,  I had had enough for today.

  

And yes I know,  there's a lot of "stuff" there that I have to deal with.  I'll get to it.  Don't judge.

Then I noticed on the Generator,  where normally the light on the side is green,  there was part of it that was showing yellow.

Huh?

Then I realised,  I had changed the oil and filter a while back, but neglected to reset the "service reminder"  or whatever you call it.

These days,  just about every machine has some sort of built in service reminder.  At least with the generator,  I don't need a special tool.   Just the one between my ears.  No mention as to how "sharp" it is.

Um.  Ya.

Good thing there's this thing called the "internet"?   Somewhere in my bunch of stuff,  I have a schematic of the labyrinth of commands that lurk beneath that keypad,  but I basically have very little clue as to just where to go.

Anyway,  after a bit of searching,  I did manage to find what I was looking for,  and we're back to a steady green light again.  What was not mentioned in all the videos and forum comments etc.,  was the fact the you have to turn the generator "off".  After that minor consideration, it was easy peasy.

So actually,  I did TWO jobs today.  Holy moly!

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep that stick on the ice.

Just Walking In The Rain

Sorry,  but now this tune is going through my head,  so I thought I'd plant the ear worm in your brain too. 
No name calling,  please.

And to think,  this was 1956!   Um hello?  That was the year I was born,  so that tells me that that tune must have stuck around for at least a few years. 
I do seem to vaguely recall singing along with the Beetles later on in the early sixties with my then very young niece.  I was an Uncle at the age of five,  but that's a whole other story.


And yes,  it is definitely raining here at the Ponderosa.  Like....a lot.

The thing is,  if you're not entirely happy with the weather around here,  all you really need to do is wait a few days.  It'll change.   Not always for the better, mind you.

Darned good thing  that we had a thaw a few days ago,  or we'd be in some deep poop.   And that might mean literally.  But,  over the years,  I've carried out certain mitigating exercises to possibly avoid such a situation.  You know,  extra weeping tile and that concrete pad to set the generator on,  which just so conveniently is sloped away from the house.

Even the deluge we had in August of 2014 (before I had put in the pad)  only resulted in about three or four cup fulls of water coming in at that back corner,  which would now be really difficult.

He says.   He hopes.


Anyway,  I can't say I've been up to too much lately.   We did have a crew in on Friday to take down yet another one of the dying ash trees out here in the side yard.  Sad,  but necessary I'm afraid.

There's another one to come down which,  depending on the weather might happen later this week.  I asked if he was coming back today,  but he mentioned something about "back to teaching again",  so I'm guessing he must run a course at one of the local colleges?   I mean,  he is an Arborist after all,  and it's not just something you learn by some sort of osmosis.

I got busy on Saturday tidying up some of the longer chunks the crew left behind.

The deal was,  certain price was agreed to,  with the idea being that the bulk of the wood would be left behind.  I'll once again get around to splitting up this stuff at some point,  but it won't be ready to burn for at least a year or so.

That's my little "Poulan"  there,  that I bought not so long ago from a fellow who was "downsizing"  and sold it to me for an exceptional price.  He had won it as a "door prize"  at some sort of sales conference (odd thing to have as a door prize I thought,  but whatever)  and it was still in the box.  He had never used it.  I haven't even had to sharpen the chain yet.  Its been maybe 20-30 years since I've sharpened a chainsaw chain,  but I'm sure it'll come back to me.

Meanwhile,  I got it in my pea brain a number of days ago that I wanted to disassemble my bench,  clean it up and refinish it. 
Now I know why I had been subconsciously avoiding this job.

This is going to take a while:

Here I've removed both the tail vise and the shoulder vise,  and started sanding the whole thing:

Working on the tail vise.

So I moved the bench top over to a mobile cart so I could take the base apart.  It was pretty gross,  considering how long spiders had been hanging out under there.  Didn't help that we were away for four and a half years either.

Then i realised,  I'll need some sort of "bench" to work on the bench.  Thankfully I have a couple "workmates" stored out in the shed.

And well,   that's pretty much life around here.  Generally fart around.  Work on that for a bit.  Watch some Olympics.  You know.  Like that.

I'll check back in at some point.

Thanks for moving your eyes back and forth.

And remember,  keep your stick on the ice.

Food... my favourite.

Well,  it's that time of year again.  And no,  I'm not talking about football,  American Thanksgiving (always good for football)  or even "Trench Warfare".

That was originally going to be one of the titles I was going to use,  if I ever got around to actually saying something.

This has been a little "project" that has been occupying a bit of my time in the last little while.  I kept thinking I'd rent a machine,  but with the ground being wet,  and not having any particular deadline looming,  I just kept digging by hand.

Way back in the day,  my nephew and I had poured a concrete walkway around the garage side of the house,  and I chose to have the downspout feed into a clay pipe that we installed underground.
Of course,  prior to having the work done in 2014 (Soffits,  fascia,  troughs and gutter guards)  all of the eaves troughs were subject to getting filled with crap every year,  and Muggins here had to go up on a ladder and clean them out.
We don't do that anymore.
Meanwhile though, my handy little culvert ended up getting plugged up after some 20 years,  and when it really came down hard,  I was getting a wee bit of water coming into the garage.
No bueno.

So,  I had to dig 'er up. 

With a combination of pressure washer and wet vac,  it's all cleared out,  new weeping tile has been installed,  along with a whack of gravel,  and the hole has mostly been filled in.

Oh,  the patio stone there is only so nobody steps into the trench between digging episodes.

I'll continue to dig a trench along where those lines are in the pic above,  as I need to install a new water line out to the shed.   There was an "incident" when we were away overseas,  and the old line is somewhat buggered.   It ain't below frost,  and that's all I'll say.

Mind you,  and I didn't take any more pics of this,  I now have a bit more dirt left over that I'll have to deal with.  Weeping tile and gravel take up a certain amount of space it seems.

  *groan*

It can sit there for a while.

The reference to "Food" above is due to the fact that,  for the first time since dinner time Tuesday night,  I can eat again. 

See,  on my Mom's side of the family,  we have a certain 'history'.   She had a colostomy for the last 15 or so years of her life,  and her brother Ernie (Ernest is my middle name,  he and Dad were best buddies)  also ended up with a colostomy for the last days of his life.  He passed away in the spring of the year I was born.

Not something to be ignored.   

So,  you can probably guess the rest.  No food.  A vile liquid.  Staying mighty close to the loo.   Ya,  like that.

This time around,  the nurse must have given me a primo dose of the requested knock-out drug,  'cause I don't remember a damned thing.  And that was exactly the outcome I was hoping for!

Bad enough you have to go through the "prep",  I'd just as soon not witness the rest.  

Travelling Companion stuck around to drive me home from the hospital,  and then it was time to eat.

Now,  there's a "word to the wise"  here, and this comes from having done this a few times, (hey,  I seem to be able to grow polyps like nobody's business)  the vile medicine that's in  your system to make it all *happen*,  is still lurking around later in the day after you get home.  What that means is,  (and I'm speaking from experience here)  don't just think you can scarf down everything in sight.

Moderation kids!   

Otherwise,  you may just have to excuse yourself half way through your very expensive Chinese dinner and head for the nearest Euphemism.   It's a little vexing to crap out forty bucks worth of Chinese food,   let me tell ya.

Your mileage may vary,  but I'm just saying.

And that's the lesson for the day.

Keep that stick on the ice,  and thanks for stopping by.

Cheers.

Thought I'd lost my house keys.

So,  yesterday was a fairly normal Friday for around these parts. Piddled around for most of the day,  had a brief nap in the afternoon,  checked with Daughter Number One to see if she wanted to go with me to the Pub ( and the answer was no,  she was still "poolside" at a Friends house and wasn't about to disturb that particular moment of zen) so then off I went.

Oh,  by the way,  T.C. is away for a few days,  as she and one of her sisters who lives in Guelph had gone off to London to catch up with some old school chums,  one of whom is a jazz singer,  and was going to be performing Thursday night.
I'll be darned if I can remember her name,  but whatever.


And that's London, Ontario.   Not that other one.

By the way,  these are chums who have known each other since grade seven I think?   A bit of a long time.

Anyhoodle,  had a nice visit at the Pub.  It's a fairly regular bunch of what I refer to as "Pub Buddies"  even though we all know each other mostly from previous work experience.  There was a bit of a follow up to the Terry Fox run that took place last Sunday,  where I and a host of others volunteered our Sunday (early..) morning to sit at the registration tables and make sure everything was tickety-boo.
Which by the way,  we must have done a pretty good job of doing,  as the key person who looks after us was all done and had joined us for a libation by about 1:30 that afternoon.  I think that was a bit of a record.  Things have to "balance",  and if that doesn't happen,  it's 'no bueno'.
And then of course,  the bulk of the rest of the discussion mostly has to do with the NFL and the pool that several of us participate in.

Alas,  this year I'm sort of sucking a big ole weanie,  with a dismal start of only a couple points.

Just...pitiful.

We usually wind things up after a couple hours,  and part ways.

I came back home,  as I still had some left overs to consume.

For the last quite some time now,  I've been really really careful when it comes to any sort of alcomohol consumption and then getting behind the wheel,  and it just so happens that this particular Pub has a couple examples of alcohol free beer.  All of which are actually pretty good.  I had had alcohol free beer once upon a time maybe 15 (?) years ago,  and it was,  how shall I put this?  Pretty bad.  
So much so that we very nearly sent it off to the Veterinary College  up in Guelph,  and I'm sure they would have conceded that our horse was in perfect health....
(Old joke,  never mind)

I'm not about to name names,  except for the one that I like,  and will typically consume if either I'm the DD,  or if I'm by myself.  It's "Clausethaler".  And it took me a few weeks before I could remember that name,  and eventually I had to somehow associate it with the notion that I'm somewhat claustrophobic.  Nothing to do with beer,  just word association.

Hey,  ya gotta do,  whatcha gotta do....


Of course,  by the time I get home,  alcohol free beer or no,  I most definitely need to get myself to the bathroom.  (Sorry,  "restroom" for you yanks)
Only thing?  I could NOT find my house keys.  Oh boy...

Doesn't help when Mr. Bladder is starting to complain.  Like...big time.

There are a couple ways to get into this house without necessarily having key in hand. I think everyone either has,  or should have some way of getting into their domicile without having to go to extremes.
Can't really say what the method is here in a public forum,  and it's not exactly like "Jack Benny's Vault",  but close.  
Also something that can make it a bit of a challenge with a bladder that's really, really not willing to wait much longer.

I do feel obliged to say,  I made it.

Barely.

And then began to wonder,  just what the heck had I done with those keys?    I was sure I had taken them,  and began to rethink/retrace etc.,  the previous couple hours.
I had definitely not taken them into the Pub with me.  That would make no sense.  So they had to either be in the truck,  or where else I wasn't sure.
After having gone through the nooks and crannies of the truck (hey,  found some random coinage!)  and come in and out of the house a couple time in full search mode,  I just happened to notice them lying on the grass about mid point between the door to the shed and the driveway.

I guess,  after I had toddled over to the shed to close the door,  I must have dropped them.

Bonehead.


So much for the confessional.  I hope to not repeat that little episode for a long while.   And sadly,  I had been doing very well in the "keeping tabs on my shit" department,   going back to some nearly twenty years ago when I thought I had lost a set of school keys  (the HORROR!)  only to discover that they had fallen into one of my boots in the hall closet.  Wasn't wearing those boots in the hot summer weather,  so they had been "lost"  for a couple months.  I stopped taking school keys home with me after that.   Just had one to get into the building,  and that was on the same ring as vehicle keys.  So,  unless I walked to work (not likely) I could always get into the building.

It's all a matter of building in that whole "how to make it idiot proof" thing.  At least in my case.  Your mileage may differ.


Thanks for stopping by.

Keep that stick on the ice.




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