06 September 2008 -
Craft in Ireland
A very inspiring article in American Craft Magazine ( ) provided me with some must see things for when we are in Ireland next summer.
Check out the breathtaking woodturning of Liam Flynn ().
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05 September 2008 -
Make
Here's () a story about some furniture I am making for the kitchen. The weather is getting perfect for working up a thirst in the shed.
So many plans so little time! Wait, I have a good 50 or so years in me so there is no reason I can't someday become the full time furniture maker I dream of being.
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04 September 2008 -
Yes We Can
It's September 5th 2008. It's 9:15PM, Central Time. It's St. Paul, Minnesota, my beloved new home town. It's the last night of the Republican National Convention. My wife and mother in law went on their bikes to downtown St. Paul to peacefully (hopefully) protest the RNC. A really old man is giving a speech. His name is John McCain. He is a hero for all the wrong reasons. He dropped bombs on villages in Vietnam from the safety of 20,000 feet above the earth and then was stupid enough to get shot down. Martha often preaches the creed of karma. She is never wrong. Nearly everything I have learned in life I have learned from her. I am more serious than a dream-job-ironed-the-night-before-interview-shirt.
Supposedly this speech marks a historical moment. This Irish-American is displaying his indifference to history by turning off the radio, having a fire in the backyard, downing a six pack of beer and crushing beer cans in the vise to see if a perfect collapse of the cylindrical form can be achieved without buckling. I am also listening to old Christy Moore songs (In Zurich, The Lakes of Pontchartrain, Little Musgrave) on my iPod while I stumble in and out of the shed. My beautiful children sleep in their beds without care for the waste of energy taking place in downtown St. Paul. Bless the little clowns!
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11 August 2008 -
Andy Goldsworthy
A couple of months ago an extremely important event, possibly sacred even, occurred in my life. I made this crude post () about a few of the living (or not long dead) artists that create the kind of art that stirs unquantifiable levels of optimism inside of me. I don't understand it and probably never will. Maybe that's the point. When you can see all sides of an object then there is nothing left to generate wonder, so you walk away. The object doesn't seem so big anymore. You move on. The event that took place made me stand still... and I have not moved one inch since. I'm transfixed beyond words. That rarely happens, thank God.
Emmet () commented on the post with a suggestion that I investigate the work of one Andy Goldworthy (). Emmet's tips are typically the stuff of legend and this one didn't fall short of the mark. What makes the story interesting (to me anyway, not sure about you) is that many weeks later while in Waupaca for the weekend at Fran and Marci's I found myself bored, I think. The kids had gone to bed, everyone else was out. I was tired. I had worked a full day back in the Twin Cities then drove four and a half hours () from work straight to Waupaca. Working my way through a cold six pack and sitting with the dogs on the couch a DVD on the shelf caught my gaze. An Andy Goldsworthy DVD, Rivers and Tides () was tucked between all the other DVD's. I put down me beer and slapped it on.
I would only embarrass myself if I tried to further explain what this has all meant to me. Words are too limiting. I can't put the right ones together to create a meaningful whole.
Goldsworthy's divorce from his wife and the breakup of his family (he has four young kids) temporarily soured the art for me. I love my wife and kids so much and would have no idea what to do if ever we became divided. It saddens me to see unhappiness visit anyones door but his family situation is not my business so I have no reason to judge. It was interesting to hear him say on the Rivers and Tides DVD that he enjoyed being alone and then to see him (on same DVD) at his kitchen table oblivious to the kids and pets that were milling around him in a scene of domestic normality. He wore the appearance of an man loosing touch with the mortal world.
Perhaps he just couldn't supply the energy and commitment needed to play a role as a family member. Creating immortal art cannot be easy.
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09 August 2008 -
Spud Girl
Once a month or so Martha makes a fantastic potato based dish called "Potatoes O'Brien" (). Elise has renamed it "The Potatoes Are Crying" so I always laugh when I hear that we are having Potatoes O'Brien for dinner. It's the way she says it that makes it so cute. Love that kid.
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05 July 2008 -
Craic House
The years fly by don't they? It seems like only yesterday that I had two small kids in the house. Yep, Elise and Clara have flown the nest and decided to move out... to the garden.
I built this shack for them. Actually, that's a poor reflection on my carpentry skills. This is a fine home that any kid would be proud to own. In fact, small adults (such as me) have been known to enjoy a bowl of ice cream or two within those four walls.
And now onto the next project... cutting the feckin' grass.
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03 July 2008 -
West Coast 2008
It's nearly time to go on our summer vacation. Excitement is mounting, and it should be. This will be a cool trip (). Take no prisoners, take no shit, take lots of pictures, eat lots of salmon cooked on the fire by Tegan, spend lots of money, build family memories, collect beach glass for a bathroom mosaic back at home, drink lots of beer, avoid starting another wildfire, be a dick, be a nice guy, see it all, eat M&M's in a different time zone, take a piss in a new ocean...
A
Fly from Minneapolis, MN to Portland, OR. See flag A on linked map. Stay three nights in a hostel in the city. Dwell magazine had plenty of great things to say about this city. Let's see if print media can match reality.
B
Drive from Portland to Mount Hood, OR. See flag B on linked map. Camp for three nights, in a tent and not in an air conditioned RV with six bathrooms, a basement, a tennis court, a billiards room... Yes we are insane thinking that all four of us in a small tent is going to be smooth as Baileys on ice. I need some excitement in my life. Surely this experience will fill the void.
C
Drive from Mount Hood to Eugene, OR. This is Noah and Tegan's adopted town. Cause three nights of trouble in a hostel in the city. See flag C on linked map.
D
Drive from Eugene to Redwood National Park, CA. See flag D on linked map. Stay two nights in a hostel right on the beach. See those giant sequoia trees.
E
Drive from Redwood National Park to San Francisco, CA. Spend four nights there in a hostel smack in the middle of the city. Maybe I will get to visit Alcatraz. It's one of those dreams I have that shouldn't really be classed as a dream. To be honest, I'd take a new iPhone over a trip to The Rock. Fly back to little old St. Paul, MN. Resume regular life possibly sporting a new beard picked up on the trip.
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31 May 2008 -
Clara
Clara has the biggest eyes of anyone I know. They see all.
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05 May 2008 -
The Shop
Support () the arts you bastards!
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26 April 2008 -
Better than I
Without sources of inspiration ((), (), (), (), (), (), (), (), (), ()) what's the point?
Each year I try and accomplish a few projetcs (2007: (), (), ()). It's not easy with winter being six months long and my shed not being heated or insulated but it could be worse. At least I have a shed, eh? The project list for 2008 is slightly longer that last year list but that's the idea. Do a little more every year. Ambition.
The other night I started work on a large kitchen cupboard with countertop that will replace four smaller units. When finished she will measure 50" wide x 84" high x 28" deep. I hope to build her using about 90% found or salvaged materials. I have no definitive design requirements other than the need to fit into the 50" x 84" x 28" envelope and provide a decent amount of countertop area for Martha to make bread. I built the bookcase () last year without a design so I'm sure it will all come together. The trick is to take it easy and stop for frequent tea breaks. It's during the tea drinking that the best ideas come to the furniture maker.
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17 April 2008 -
Whatever
Totally forgot what I wanted to say... half drunk... waste of a blog post, waste of your time, wasted, screw it. Hitting the west coast this summer. Washington, Oregon (), California... All good in the 'hood.
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25 March 2008 -
Maple syrup
Subconsciously I suppose I always knew that maple syrup came from actual maple trees although the exact conversion process never entered my mind. That has all changed now. Martha's folks own 15 acres of land, a decent portion of it being hardwood forest, outside Waupaca, Wisconsin. We got married on that land and are eternally grateful to all that Fran and Marci did to make the "blessed event" be such a memorable day. We visit that land nearly every time we are in Wauapca. I say nearly because deer hunting season makes it off limits. Downtown Baghdad is a safer (and warmer) place than rural Wisconsin when deer huntin' is open. There may be more bullets flying in Baghdad but in Wisconsin there are guns mixed with beer, cheap beer, the kind of beer that is sold in 30 packs for $12 and drank first thing in the morning by both men and women. Yes, that kind of beer.
At the highest elevation and sitting on the western perimeter of the property Fran built by hand and without electricity a 500sqft shed. That was more than 25 years ago. Over time the shed fell to ruin but a few years ago he began to work on it and it is now a half cabin half workshop. It just might be his pride and joy. Should Fran and Marci ever lose their house to a tornado or be driven from town by a torch wielding angry mob due to their political leanings the shed would make a more than feasible new home, a fresh start. There is no internet or running water but $5,000 would be enough to have a well dug to address the water issue... and the internet, it can go to hell, what has it done for anyone lately? The shed is heated by a wood stove with infinite fuel being provided by naturally downed trees in the woods. The land is quite arable so with Fran's insatiable appetite for drudgerous and back breaking labor I would safely say that a parcel of non wooded land could be tilled, with a shovel of course, to grow enough crops to feed a small army. If the lust for red meat should ever darken the door of Fran and Marci then all they would have to do is pick off a few of the deer that graze on the land. Have you ever had freshly killed venison cooked on an open fire? Holy shit is all I can say.
There are hundreds of maple trees in the woods. There may even be thousands but I can't be sure. It's very possible that Fran has conducted a detailed trees census so he would be far better able to quantify the maple population than this urban reporter. Getting the sap, that once boiled down will become syrup, out of the tree is simple, almost so simple that it is counterintuitive.
Step 1: Bore a 9/16" hole about 3" deep into the trunk of the tree at waist height from the ground.
Step 2: With a hammer beat a metal tap into the hole. The tap is basically a piece of tubing that provides a pathway for the sap to run from the tree. While inserting taps myself, Fran and Pat Mahoney speculated that the Native Americans (Indians) could have used animal bones as taps. If the marrow was removed then the bone would function well as a tap. Depending on the size and condition of the tree multiple taps can be put in one tree. The law of diminishing returns applies though. Sometimes it is better to single tap many young trees than to multi-tap a few mature trees but what the hell do I know?
Step 3: Hang a large plastic bag on the tap so that the liquid sap can be collected in the bag.
Step 4: Retreat to Fran's shed and drink some Beck's beer, light the wood stove, eat thick slices of local cheddar cheese and handfuls of non local tortilla chips, be happy doing nothing other than getting lost in the sounds of wood crackling in the fire and the long and lonesome whistle of a passing freight train.
Step 5: Let nature do its work. The freezing nighttime temperatures and mild daytime temperatures stimulate the sap to run from the trees into the collection bags. It's the freeze-thaw action that only allows maple syrup to made in the winter. No, winter is not over yet. It's a six month season. The sap is nothing like the viscous sticky goo from a Christmas tree. Maple tree sap is pretty much water with a small sugar content. That surprised me but it does explain the 30:1 sap to syrup ratio. I tasted some of the sap to validate all the information that Fran and Mahoney were dispensing. No word of a lie was told that day.
Step 6: Collect the sap. The collection bags need to be emptied on an almost daily basis. This involves trudging through the snowy woods with 5 gallon buckets into which the sap is dumped. Once the buckets are full the sap collector (the sap mule) must reverse trudge out of the woods and dump the sap into a storage tank. Some trees produce nearly a gallon of sap per day while others produce fuck all. I think there are 100 tapped trees. I called Marci today and she said they had 300 gallons of sap in the tank! The sap output depends on the age and health of the trees but also on the location of the trees relative to the edge of the woods. This made no sense when Fran said it but I couldn't argue with the facts; the trees deep in the woods were pissing out vast quantities of sap while those on the edge were weeping out only paltry sums of the precious juice. Maybe it is natures attempt to maintain balance with man. If all tress delivered the same amount of sap then there would be no incentive for man to sweat. He would merely have to drive around the edge of the woods and make a journey of a few paces from maple tree to storage tank on back of pickup truck. Nature is smarter than you or I.
Step 7: Boil the sap. This is the end of the line for the weak sugar water that we know as sap. A large outdoor fire is built and a steel pan is set over the fire. The sap is teamed into the pan and boiled. The water content evaporates into the air and the sticky residue, the maple syrup, is emptied into quarter gallon jars. Fran has a 35 gallon boiling pan and from what I have heard it may take 24 hours to boil down all 300 gallons of sap. Two or more shifts of able bodied (but often drunk) adults are needed to manage "the boil". The fire must be kept so hot that the steel pan glows orange. Efficiency is improved by preheating the sap beside the fire so that it does not go to the pan full of ice chunks.
Step 8: Enjoy the fruits of the labor. The maple syrup can now be put on pancakes, used to baste ham, added to stir fry as a natural sweetener or given away as a gift.
I learn something valuable every single time I visit Wisconsin.
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17 March 2008 -
Paddy On The Road
Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all! I hope you all got to quench your thirst and redden your knuckles today, God knows I did. T'was a fine day to be shure, divil a bit of doubt about it.
Actually, I cut my hand at work on a wire braiding machine so the cause of my wounds is not really that exciting. And while I'm in confession mode I might as well tell you I am not drinking today... because I drank all my beer on Saturday and Sunday. Ah feck it, I may as well keep digging my own grave here... I hate cabbage too, can't look at the crap. I'm the worst excuse for an Irishman, ever.
While leaving a moderately upscale St. Paul coffee shop yesterday evening with Martha and the youngsters I grabbed a copy of the Irish Gazette (). It's not a bad free rag at all and does a decent job of communicating reasonably interesting and relevant snippets of information from the old country. Lest we start making comparisons to the New York Times let me make it clear that this publication is dangerously cheesy, but in an innocent and likable kind of way. My favorite section is "News from Ireland" (), not for the content but for the practically derogatory illustrated character that appears at the top of the page.
I call him Paddy O'Shea. Let's enter Paddy's twisted world.
Paddy's house/hut
Shure, tis no more than a thatch cottage. The thatch looks decent but the lack of chimney, door or window is worrying. I know damn well there is a fireplace in there, so how does he deal with the carbon monoxide issue? Is he so tough that he is immune to toxic fumes? Nobody is that tough. Perhaps there is logic to the absence of door or window and the fumes leave the dwelling via those holes. But if that is the case how does he keep the rain and thieves out? The answer is simple but twofold; he has nothing worth stealing and he doesn't give a shite about the rain, it only makes him stronger (but emotionally weaker). No, that can't be it, doesn't add up. I give up. Like Paddy himself, the house is an enigma covered in pig shite.
Paddy's street
Badly paved road or depressing river of mud? Did the British take the road? I can't tell. Those wavy lines imply some kind of rutted mud track suitable only for ass and cart.
Paddy's attire
The quintessential Irish farmer's multipurpose suit. In that suit this man can bale hay, go to mass, fight, converse on ecumenical matters with the parish priest, down a half barrel of stout, dance like a lunatic, flawlessly impersonate Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (), fix the PTO on a tractor, pick up women, beat women, herd cattle. Wait a second... tailored suit + heroics = James Bond!
Paddy
Standard Irish cap (in the process of being tipped to bid a neighbor/enemy a good day), big hands, twine possibly being used for a belt, full beard, one thick eyebrow, nervous demeanor, shy, legendary tea maker, poet, lover, work machine...
And now back to readin' me paper.
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08 March 2008 -
Meat Sweats
I pinched this text from a wikipedia article. I believe it is highly relevant.
Meat Sweats
A term used to describe a well known malady and byproduct of mass animal protein consumption.
Degrees of severity
Meat sweats are generally categorized on a scale of varying degrees starting at third degree, being a mild meat sweat, to a first degree meat sweat being very severe in nature. Generally, pork and chicken dishes will result in third degree meat sweats, depending on the gross amount consumed, and beef will result in a first degree meat sweat. A first degree meat sweat can result in a temporary debilitating condition causing one to feel symptoms of lethargy, depression and severe apathy. The spiciness of the meat consumed, in a counterintuitive outcome, does not necessarily increase amount of meat sweats that one experiences. This may have to do with the nature of meat sweats, which have a base of lipids rather than perspiration.
Meat Sweat Moans
Upon onset of severe cases of Meat Sweats, a hyper audible moaning or wailing sound has been witnessed by several parties. Although it can not be confirmed, many scholars maintain that this wailing is a direct result of mankind's mammalian instinct - and this moan is an innate trait used to warn off predators during time of mass carnal feeding.
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06 March 2008 -
The Death of Har-Mar
Martha took this shot of the Har-Mar movie theater (part of the Har-Mar mall) in Roseville one evening this week. It could be the last time we see this place. My feelings are mixed, but not 50/50 mixed, I'm leaning more towards displeasure. Yes, I got engaged there, in an old photo booth to be exact, and I'll miss the place but the building is far from beautiful. Ok, it may even be ugly but what will replace it I am sure will be simply disgusting and because of that I am obliged to mourn the loss of a place that actually stood out from the rest of the strip mall crap. The Har-Mar movie theater had class, not a ton of class but just enough class to get by.
Over the course of the last six months a dedicated team of workers have been methodically disassembling the Har-Mar movie theater. I know this because we go to the Har-Mar mall all the time, they have one of the best Barnes & Noble () book shops around, and with each visit we note the progress of the job. Now that I think about it I am confused as to why they are working so carefully. Most destruction jobs are brutal and quick. This one is a very special case, very clinical. First they stripped the light fixtures and all the seating out, then the bathroom fixtures, then the popcorn machines, then they rolled up the carpets, then they brought in a digger and broke up the concrete floors to get down to bare earth. Only when a hollow shell remained did they remove the massive (and incredibly tasteless) cheap glass chandelier.
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02 March 2008 -
Azure
I'm not sure why Martha doesn't care for this Polaroid that she snapped a few months back. I love it. I absolutely love it. It conjures up distant memories of warmer days, back in September of last year, before the snow and ice came down from Canada and cooped us all up indoors, like frozen shit-monkeys. Like you I am also confused as to what a shit-monkey is or why it seemed all too logical to say that. It is what it is.
I miss my () shed. It's off limits for now. Not even the 40,000 BTU propane heater I bought was able to make it a remotely enjoyable place to be. Winter is really grating on me. Another month or so and it will fade thank God. Perhaps in a few years I will be able to insulate the shed enough for it to hold heat.
To hell with this crap...
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13 February 2008 -
iPhone
I'm going to get an iPhone but I'll wait for the 2nd generation model that should be out late 2008. It may be a few dollars cheaper by then and will no doubt be packed with more new features than I know what to do with. The Google Maps feature is what I really need. Anyone who knows me probably has a few stories about how they got in the car with me to go on a simple errand but ended up very, very far from the intended target. Those days will be a thing of the past when my trusty iPhone is at hand. No more trips to the shop, via Nebraska, for me.
To be honest, the only reason I am holding back is that I don't have the money. No, that's not true. I do have the money but I kind of made a deal with Martha that I would have to earn the money I need for it instead of just taking it from our bank account. So if you need your grass cut just give me a call and we can arrange a price. Need the car washed and waxed ()? How about a spit shine on those shoes there sir? Nah, I'm not going to stoop so low that I'm basically panhandling my way to an iPhone. There are legitimate and dignified ways to make dollars and those are the avenues I shall pursue.
On no account does this mean that I will give up my nasty little habit of stealing small change from other peoples cars. Kelley Shea knows what I am talking about. What I finds, I keeps.
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20 January 2008 -
Serious Clara
Clara has always made strange faces. A few days after she was born we noticed that her demeanor was very business like (), hence the temporary nickname "Serious Clara". Now she is starting to do an assortment of suspicious faces. What next, paranoia? She's a funny kid. We'll keep her.
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18 January 2008 -
Cold as ice
Right now, with wind-chill factored in, it is -34°C outside. Sweet mother of divine God! Can you imagine being homeless on a night like this? Earlier this evening I felt sorry for myself when I had to run out to the shed to get my calculator (which took 30 minutes to thaw and work properly). Shame on me.
Both of the kids and Martha have cold like symptoms so I called twice from work today for a snot update. They were all lying low and not daring to venture outdoors. This weather is not funny. It will KILL you before you have time to ask yourself why you thought going outside was such a fantastic idea.
I overheard a conversation this week at work of which myself and a Welsh employee were the subject of a good hearted discussion. Apparently our frequent use of bad language (swear words and the like) is a source of entertainment. It's official, we are as rough as fuck. It is still surprising to me how clean the average American mouth is in the work environment. They'll break, oh yes, they'll break.
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18 December 2007 -
Christmas Clown
Everyone should get one of these () for Christmas.
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06 December 2007 -
Thanksgiving 2007
Thanksgiving 2007 (), Arkansas style. Watch your back Christmas because Thanksgiving looks like it could be my new favorite holiday! What made it special this year was that we celebrated it at our own house. Fran cooked the turkey on the barbeque with his patented basting sauce. The man is a legend. We fired up the woodstove in the back garden and drank as the turkey cooked to perfection.
Meat, beer and fire, what more could a man want?
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01 December 2007 -
Mo Bothán Adhmadóireacht
Example of some cutting boards () I am whipping up for Christmas gifts. The deal is that the recipient will get a decent homemade object that means more to them than some expensive junk I bought at a kitchen shop and in the process of fabricating said gift I will acquire some new woodworking skills, namely laminating dissimilar woods.
I think I might have a go at selling a few next year. I have absolutely nothing to lose.
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29 November 2007 -
Clara Julia Dunne
The new baby and me.
Martha took the () photos while we were still at the hospital.
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28 November 2007 -
New baby!
Clara Julia Dunne was born yesterday at 3:50pm. She weighs 8lbs. She is 20 inches long. She was 11 days late! Labor lasted four hours while the actual pushing lasted less than four minutes. We got a pretty sweet little baby out of the deal and we can't wait to get her home.
During the very early stages of labor I decided to run over to Starbucks to get some tea and a chocolate chip cookie the size of a manhole cover. Abusing the free condiments (ketchup packets, soy sauce packets, sugar cubes, mayo packets) is an all too frequent practice of mine. A petty shoplifter never looses his touch.
The loot this time was about 30 packets of raw brown sugar. The stuff makes all the difference between a good cup of tea and a great cup of tea. At some coffee shops you have to ask specially for it, it's that coveted.
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25 November 2007 -
Crud
Master () for my first and probably my last print using Martha's new Gocco print maker. I think I'll call it "Six Chairs Getting Fucked Across A Room". I intend to print it onto the back of a plain dark grey t-shirt that I have. Martha already got me the correct ink that I'll need to print onto cotton.
Warranty () for Martha's 1958 Remington Travel-Riter typewriter. I guess it no longer counts for much but it does look cool. We got it at a rummage sale this summer. If only I had time to list all the amazing finds I've picked up for nearly nothin' at rummage sales. Set of 60 taps and dies for $8, unused block plane for $3, Ennio Morricone LP for $1...
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18 November 2007 -
No baby yet
New baby is two days late and seems quite happy to continue her stay in Martha's belly. Elise was more than a week late so past history (n=1) indicates that we could be in for the long haul. All this waiting has not been in vain. I have learned two very important new skills related to woodworking.
1. Cutting hardwood end grain, specifically maple, without burning the wood with the saw blade is best accomplished by pushing the wood over the table saw as fast as possible. Of course, the sharpness of the blade is also a major factor but I am very happy to know that I can now cut end grain without having to sand off the burn marks later. This is probably elementary stuff to you more learned woodworkers but I am mostly self taught and learn by trial and error. Every victory is a welcome one that opens up new avenues.
2. The maple I spoke of above was used to make a cutting board () as a Christmas gift for someone. Since food will be prepared on its surface it is very important that the finish be organic or inert so that it will not taint the food. I took a risk on using extra virgin olive oil as a finish. Best move of my life. The wood looks like solid gold and the finish is very flat/satin so there is no evidence of brush strokes.
It's not () just spice racks that get knocked up around here.
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11 November 2007 -
Lake Street, Minneapolis
Martha took these photos on a recent walk down Lake Street in Minneapolis. The neighborhood we explored is mostly made up of Mexican businesses and restaurants. The smell of great food was heavy in the air and made me want to smash my fist through the window of a chicken place and grab one of the chickens that was roasting on a spit. Next time. I walked past a Chinese take-away and observed that the staff were all Hispanic. I'm still trying to work that one out. Was there Chinese people cooking in the back and Hispanic people taking orders up front? Was English the common tongue? It must have been.
I'd love to know another language (aside from my limited prowess in Deutsch and Gaeilge). I think Icelandic would be cool to learn. I often fantasize about living there. Two hours in Reykjavik airport a few years ago is my entire Icelandic experience. Beautiful airport though. Maybe I'll pursue this pipe dream further when the energy crisis hits in about 20 years. The Icelanders are no gobshite's. Geothermal energy will support their economy for many a millennium.
It was a busy weekend here, the best kind of weekend. On Saturday I raked enough leaves to fill 11 large black bags. Might not sound like much but it was nearly three hours pseudo-solid work (stopped twice for a beer, once for tea, once to go and get some free windows that I will build into kitchen cabinets next year) and I still have to do the front garden. Screw it, I'll just go over the leaves with the lawn mower. Martha will never notice. She's thick like that. Each bag is really compressed. I didn't want to try and drag 40 bags to the city compost site. St. Paul recycles its leaves into mulch that is then spread around the city. There is a lot of leaves in this city and they all come off the trees at the same time so serious effort is put into getting them off the street to prevent them from clogging the drains.
Our new baby is due next Friday. I had a dream/vision about her the other night and was able to see what she looks like. I wonder if it will be true.
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02 November 2007 -
Part time connoisseur
I don't go to pubs much anymore, maybe five times per year and I am quite happy with that. Family, work (love me new job () by the way), shed, sleep is where it's at for this man, in those respective orders of priority. Our new baby is due two weeks from today. I can't wait to hold her and see what she looks like. We think she'll have dark hair but we don't know why we think that.
I do enjoy a six pack every weekend though, or sextet of ale as Homer once said. For whatever reason, I rarely pick the same beer two or more weeks in a row. One week it'll be Becks and next week it'll be Heineken, then Pilsner Urquell, then Stella Artois, then Point Special, then Amstel Light, then Linenkugels Honeyweiss... Yes, all those beers fall into the same category of lager and are best served very cold but I think there is a connection between mood and choice of beer. I can't put my finger on it but there is a reason I choose one over the other even though the argument could be made that “they all taste the same.” Philistines.
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10 October 2007 -
Tomato Paella
Why is it that any time I fantasize about making this probably very simple dish I just end up on the couch eating dry crackers in my underwear?
3 cups water
2 cups short grain rice
1 1/2 lb ripe tomatoes, cored and cut into thick wedges
1 medium onion, minced
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon Spanish pimentón
1/2 cup white wine
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Large pinch saffron threads
Minced parsley and basil for garnish
1. Preheat oven to 450F. Warm water in a saucepan. Put tomatoes in a medium bowl, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and drizzle them with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Toss to coat.
2. Put remaining oil in a 10" or 12" oven proof skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and garlic, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables soften, 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in tomato paste, saffron if you are using it, and paprika and cook for a minute more. Add rice and cook, stirring occasionally, until it is shiny, another minute or two. Add wine and let simmer until it is mostly absorbed, then add the hot water and stir until just combined.
3. Put tomato wedges on top of rice and drizzle with juices that accumulated in bottom of bowl. Put pan in oven and roast, undisturbed, for 15 minutes. Check to see if rice is dry and just tender. If not, return pan to oven for another 5 to 10 minutes. If rice looks too dry but still is not quite done, add a small amount of stock or water (or wine). When rice is ready, turn off oven and let pan sit for 5 to 15 minutes.
4. Remove pan from oven and sprinkle with parsley and basil. If you like, put pan over high heat for a few minutes to develop a bit of a bottom crust before serving.
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21 September 2007 -
Death Ball 3000
Summer is over and I am pretty dang happy about that to be honest. I heard a weather dick on the radio (you know who you are… Mark Sealy of Minnesota Public Radio) say we experienced 30 days above 90ºF this summer. I doubt 30 days is a record but it sure was rough and according to the climatologists it's not going to get any better until the next ice age. Thank God for cold beer, ice cream, the garden hose, drinks with little fucking umbrellas in them and the best respite of all, Elise's ankle deep swimming pool. I would also be praising the Lord for air conditioning but we don't have it, nor do we plan to get it. If we were unfortunate or mental enough to live in the desert or in the Deep South it would be a necessity but 30 hot days out of 365 is manageable and makes those cool days all the sweeter. Martha has been preaching that line for the three summers I've lived here and I was finally won over this year. Also, our house was built in 1889 and for sure doesn't have insulation efficient or fancy enough to make AC viable. Legend has it that insulation back then consisted of newspaper and straw. Yes sir, I'll take straw and newspaper over your new fangled R30 polystyrene foam any old day of the week.
Elise has a new boyfriend, goes by the name of Tim, or Young Tim. He's definitely marriage material. It doesn't take an idiot to figure this one out. His dad is German and his mother is Russian or possibly Soviet Block. I can't distinguish certain eastern European languages from each other, one of my many failings. Suffice to say that growing up in a multilingual house will guarantee Tim a place in a good college, maybe even one that has ivy growing all over it and is considered in the same league as other establishments with generous ivy coverage, an Ivy League college if you will. He needs to work on his chivalry though and they don't teach that at Harvard, Yale, Princeton or even at Ripon. Tim may only be 14 months old but there is no excuse for the disrespect he showed Elise last night at the park, no excuse. It was a basketball that drove a wedge through their budding friendship, a basketball.
About 20 minutes prior to the incident I found a basketball that some kid must have left at the park. Knowing that Elise likes to play with a ball now and again I entertained her with some dribbling and hoop shooting, Larry Bird style. She got most pleasure out of me simply lobbing the ball in her direction so that it bounced toward her at her eye level. We threw the ball back and forth to each other for a while. Martha, who is 31 weeks pregnant, joined in the game and demonstrated a level of sport know-how equally pathetic to mine. Soon all three of us were laughing and chasing the ball around the court. Having a family is the greatest thing in the world. Why the hell are more people my age not having kids? Every time we go to the park with Elise we meet parents of other young kids but the parents are always 10 or more years older than us. We have nothing in common. It stinks. Whatever.
Elise started to yawn meaning it was time to go home and put her to bed. We hadn't decided yet whether we'd keep the free ball or not so we continued to play with it as we walked toward the car. Walking through the playground I thought I'd show Elise one last trick. I rolled the ball up the twisty slide and let it fly down the slide on its own. She laughed and the ball rolled over to where Tim, his sister and his mother were playing. Tim picked up the ball and started to play with it, thinking it had no owner and had just decided to roll down the slide on its own. Elise ran over and took it back from him. He got mad and took it back from her… and she cried. Tim's sister, being about three years old and understanding the concept of sharing, played the peace broker. She took the ball from Tim and rolled it to Elise. She made her own brother see that there was more fun to be had from everyone playing with the ball than from him having it to himself and trying to defend it from our crying daughter. Elise's tears evaporated as she got into the game. She rolled the ball to Tim's sister. She rolled it to Tim. Tim rolled it to Elise. Elise rolled it to Tim… you get the picture. It was very interesting to witness the situation unfold, to watch a dispute erupt and then see three little people find a solution, by themselves, that gave everyone what they wanted. Idiots at the UN take note.
Our family is set to grow by one new member on November 16th, give or take a few days. Elise was over a week late. We already know that the new baby is a girl. If this happens again Martha might have to get the Henry VIII treatment. Tough but fair.
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11 September 2007 -
New job
I got a new job. Process Development Engineer at AGA Medical (). The focus will be on developing Nitinol wire braiding processes to support new and existing products. Boring to you perhaps, fascinating to me.
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02 September 2007 -
Books, books, books...
I came across this () funny photo the other day. On the morning of Elise's first birthday we thought she'd enjoy the surprise of coming downstairs to a sea of balloons. Not so, she chose to read a little book instead, being the huge bookworm that she is. Here is another case of chronic book reading syndrome (), this time in a dirty but seriously cool Puerto Rico hotel.
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07 July 2007 -
Meat diaries
The ultrasound revealed that the next baby will be a girl. A sister for Elise. I got the doctor to double check because there was a moment when I thought I saw something that resembled a wee tool but alas, I was wrong. Not to worry, plenty of time to produce a male heir.
Martha and Elise have gone to Waupaca for the weekend. I've been left at home and am trying hard to stay out of trouble. It's not easy. It may sound cruel but it is a little bit nice to have the house to myself. I'm always glad I have this () handy reference for times when I am alone. It's gotten me out of and into many a hairy situation. If you happen to pick up a copy you should go straight to the section on how to cook “Spaghetti Bolognese Divorce Style.” Priceless.
I entertained last night in the form of a casual get together. That's right, I hosted a party. Kelley and her gentleman friend, Dean, came over. Earlier that day I took the steaks out of the freezer and chopped up some vegetables. These steaks were a birthday gift from Martha's grandparents to me. Rosie bought them off the Internet and they came by FedEx packed in dry ice! Now that's what I call the perfect in-laws. I cooked the steaks on the barbeque. I'm not well known for my cooking skills but I will let you in on one secret to the art of cooking steak over charcoal. One should constantly brush the meat with water. It prevents the steak from getting dry or burning. Keep that under your hat for God's sake.
The culinary magic didn't stop there. Fuck no. Not long after the meat was cooking nicely the host came out with a bowl of vegetables that had marinated for hours in a ginger mandarin sauce. These vegetables were then skewered with wooden chop sticks that the host sharpened on a belt sander and soaked in water for a few hours. Again, water played a key role in the cooking. Soaking the wooden chop sticks means that they don't burn when the vegetable skewers are thrown onto the barbeque. “The man is a God damn genius,” I heard one of the guests whisper, or maybe the wind rustled the leaves on the oak tree making me think I heard something to that effect. It's happened before. The dozen beers I drank may have also had some influence. I doubt it though.
Much earlier in the day Martha sent me a text from Wisconsin. “Make sure everyone goes in the photo booth tonight.” We own a Polaroid photo booth and it is a rule that all visitors must have their mug shot taken in the booth. So, after we were done eating we followed the wife's orders and posed for the camera (). The film expired in 2002, hence the quality issues but they don't make it anymore so this is as good as it gets. The experience is more important than the outcome. How many people can say they got drunk, ate perfectly cooked steak and then had their picture taken in the personal photo booth of a friend of their's?
There are many more stories to tell but it's hot right now (97°F/36°C) and I need to go cool off.
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15 June 2007 -
Paradise
Let the sand castle building, drinking beer from a coconut, grass skirt wearing antics begin! On Sunday we head to Tortola, British Virgin Islands, for the wedding of Martha's step brother Noah to his long time lady friend Tegan. I guess that makes him my step brother in law and her my step sister in law through marriage.
I've never been to the Caribbean so my only frame of reference on life in paradise is what I've seen in movies. I expect to befriend monkeys, eat a lot of fruit, talk with parrots, not wear a watch because according to TV ads for Bacardi nobody has jobs down there and nobody cares what time it is because when you've got nothing to do you've got nowhere to be. I'll most likely also swim in turquoise colored waters, light fires on the beach, get tangled up in some romantic misunderstandings... It's all good in the 'hood.
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04 June 2007 -
Bookcase made from "shite"
Not finished yet. Still have to put glass in the doors, polish the steel on the sides, make a top, rub mineral oil into the top, doors and sides. I made this bookcase from wood I found all over the city. There are some maple floor boards with the tongue and groove cut off, some cherry skirting boards glued together to make 3/4" boards, steel sheet pulled out of a recycling dumpster at a local factory, glass pulled out of a dumpster behind a window and door factory...
Hopefully I can sell her for $300 this summer at the Waupaca Arts Fair. I aim to have a few more bookcases made by then. This one is the biggest I'll do for now. 50" tall and 30" wide. The doors for this one I made myself but the next ones will have doors I found around the city. It's amazing what people throw away and what I can turn into cash for the family.
Better get back to the shed, me cup of tea is going cold.
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20 May 2007 -
Farming in St. Paul
Have I told you about our community garden plot? Basically, Martha wants to grow vegetables but our back garden is too shaded because of the shed and the big oak tree beside the shed, neither of which is going anywhere. In addition to this we will be tearing up the back garden in the course of the construction project we are going forward with this summer. Therefore if we want to farm we need to farm somewhere else. Hence the plot we now own for the next 12 months. It's 12ft x 15ft and is about half a mile from our house. It is one of about 50 plots all fenced in together to keep out rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, deer, bears, sharks, snakes... It's boarded on one side by the street and on the other by the railroad. I'd say the total size of the community garden is no more than an acre or so. I'm new to agriculture so I am probably off by a few fractions of an acre. It's a highly productive thin sliver of land in the middle of the city. If you live in Europe then this concept is the exact same as owning an allotment. In Europe I believe that people who live in homes with no gardens would be your typical allotment owners.
It's nice to have control over the price of our food. Nothing worse than being subjected to price hikes on stuff like red bell peppers due to poor crop yields in California. It is also nice to know where our food comes from and to eat it with pride knowing that "I grew this from a feckin' seed." The point of this story is to tell you that I actually enjoy turning over soil with a shovel, building a chicken wire fence around the perimeter, being part of something that involves patience and careful attention to detail. I'm an urban farmer!
Now let's get to the youngest urban farmer of them all, Elise. We brought her down to the plot on Monday evening after I got home from work. I worked on the fence while Martha turned the soil and got it ready for planting. Sitting close to us in the muck was Elise absolutely lost in thought and completely content to dig at the soil with a rock. It was like watching a kid play with Lego. I've never see her that focused on anything. Pretty soon I had the fence up and without provocation or suggestion she began to pull stones out of the soil, stumble to the fence and drop the stones on the other side of it. She continued this for a few more minutes but then discovered that muck didn't taste too bad so she ate a few handfuls. We put a stop to that pretty quick. From time to time she would rub her face with the palms of her hands which were filthy. It wasn't long before she looked like she'd been down a coal mine.
We went back to the plot again last night. Martha planted about a dozen tomato plants. I finished the fence. Elise worked on the muck with her new shovel (a tea spoon) which understandably led to confusion as she began to spoon the muck into her mouth. I quickly replaced the spoon with a garden trowel which is half her size! She dug away with that for a while and continued the important work of stone removal. We'll go back tonight to plant some more stuff.
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07 May 2007 -
Conky!
"Ohhhhh... myyyyyyy Julian....... my handsome Julian Patrick Swayze you were so fucking sexy in Roadhouse and fucking Dirty Dancing."
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01 May 2007 -
The swing
She stands on the little stool in the back porch and yells out the window at her swing. It doesn’t matter if it is raining, snowing or pitch dark outside, that’s where she wants to be. It provides never-ending joy.
I pick her up and drop her into the swing seat. I push her back and forth for a few minutes. She enjoys it and wants to be pushed higher. I oblige but my safety limit doesn’t match up with hers. There is no such thing as danger to her. Be it object, animal or person, everyone is her best friend; from friendly strangers in restaurants right down to the homeless people invisible to the majority of us. King or street sweeper, they all get a frantic wave and smile. It’s reciprocated with equal enthusiasm, most of the time. Some put up a cold front, refusing to be humored by the little red head that has so much love for everything that it has to be shared or she’ll burst. We see it all the time at home too. Martha and I have only so much capacity. We soon fill up with what she is dishing out in spades. The excess is spread out around the house in the form of adoring hugs and kisses lavished upon chairs, the coffee table, the floor, radiators…
We hung the swing from the smaller of the two catalpa trees in our back garden. It swings a little to the left and has been known to get dangerously close to the trunk. A shoddy installation job not helped by the sloping branch it is anchored to. There was a more suitable branch on the other side of the tree but we lack a ladder of sufficient height to get up there. She won’t hold it against me. When swinging seems to be getting old we switch to slowly turning the swing clockwise so that the ropes are braided tight together. The anticipation builds. The giggles leak out and break the nervous silence. She knows what’s coming. A few more twists and there is enough stored energy in the ropes. The swing itself has lifted up about 18” like the seat in a photo booth. I let go. The swing unwinds and with each rotation it accelerates more, as do the squeals and laughter. It’s all over in less than a minute. She is laying back in the swing, unable to sit up, paralyzed by bliss and dizziness. We go again. We do it maybe five times total. Then she pukes, but it’s only water because dinner was ages ago… so we go again.
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15 April 2007 -
Furry little fellas with beady eyes
I've posted many times before on my love of scavenging used building materials, furniture and other random junk () from the streets of the city. There are many driving factors behind my motivations. There is the reuse/recycle/repurpose element. There is the money saving element. There is the desire to be the opposite of every dick who lines the pockets of Home Depot with their hard earned dollars every time they need a few planks to do some job around the house. I can tell you a dozen places where there is an infinite free supply of planks and getting them will not involve having to deal with the over enthusiastic store greeter two seconds after walking through the front door of the store. I gave up on feeling I have to be nice to those people years ago. I'm still convinced that the role of the store greeter is totally pointless in a similar vein to the old men in Dublin who are paid to sit on a chair in the middle of Grafton Street holding signs for local businesses between their legs. Couldn't a bucket filled with concrete with a hole for the sign do an equally proficient job? Maybe I'm being cruel because the sign holders differ from the greeters in that they don't give a shit about how you are doing today or whether you need to know all about the "patio furniture on sale in the garden section to the rear of the store."
I've finally realized that the main reason I do it is the surprise factor. I never know what I will come across in the course of my rummaging. A few blocks from our house a local church is being renovated. Outside is a big dumpster into which the contents of the building are being tossed. I took a look inside the dumpster not really looking for anything in particular. I found a great little safe with the door missing! What I will do with this I'll never know but the excitement of the score is what it's all about.
This evening my career was nearly cut short. I was out looking for some plywood in dumpsters around Minneapolis. I came across one that was packed full of wood. As I began to climb in a giant crow flew out. I suspect he was digging for food as there were a few rubbish bags among the wood. The evidence of food waste and avian scavengers should have been my hint to let this one go but my senses were jarred by the bounty before me. I swung my leg over the edge of the dumpster and was about to jump in when a rat the size of a dog came out from under some crap. I got the hell out of there as if a swarm of wasps were after me. The size of the hospital bill for fixing a dose of rabies scares me to death when I think back to the $800 I had to hand over for two stitches needed to address an apple peeling injury. I didn't learn from that incident either because I still peel the skin off apples.
Seems like some ground rules have established themselves. If there is food in a dumpster then the rats own the food but they also own everything else in that dumpster. I can respect that.
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12 April 2007 -
Crippling Balloon Payment
Recent financial analysis (with spreadsheet of course) for the Dunne family made me think of a classic Simpsons moment.
Canyonero Salesman - "Ok, heres how your lease breaks down... this is your down payment, then here's your monthly, annnnnnnnnd there's your weekly."
Homer - "And that's it, right?"
Canyonero Salesman - "Yup... oh, then after your final monthly payment there's the routine CBP, or (mutters almost inaudibly) Crippling Balloon Payment."
Homer - "But that's not for a while, right?"
Canyonero Salesman - "Right!"
Homer - "Sweet!"
Life moves fast around these parts. Financial goals for fiscal year 2007 are pretty basic: double our mortgage to pay for 750sq.ft addition to house, clear loan on our Honda Civic Hybrid, buy new Honda Fit (for Martha, Elise and Seamus). The ultimate but probably impossible goal is to buy the new car outright and have no loan on it... We'll see what happens.
Casual meeting with architect () went well this evening. Elise charmed them good.
Time for bed. Exhausted.
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09 April 2007 -
Winter blues
Would you believe that we are expecting more feckin' snow this week? This winter business is literally breaking my heart. It's been going on since November for Christ sake. I don't ask for much, that's not true, I ask for too much but some non coat and hat weather for the first time in six months isn't too greedy.
Anyway, enough griping out of me. I don't control the weather... yet.
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30 March 2007 -
Home improvements
I'm eating chocolate covered raisins by the handful. They're not good for me. I don't care. I can't get fat for some reason and I suppose that's a good thing. Maybe not. I'm drinking Heineken. I'm listening to God Speed You Black Emperor. I've just finished my first week of my new job at Boston Scientific.
I'm thinking about our new baby that will be born in November. Martha jokes about it being a boy even though it will probably be a girl. She calls him Seamus and says that he'll be lighting fires, breaking windows and kicking people by the time he can walk. We all have dreams.
We had a partner from Minneapolis based Shelter Architecture () over this evening to give us some early stage design advice on bringing our 19th century house into the 21st century. Our house was built in 1889 and is solid as a rock but only has two bedrooms and I can't see Elise sharing a bedroom with Seamus. They'd kill each other for sure. We need another 500sq.ft pretty quick.
So the plan is to add two new bedrooms upstairs, put in a bathroom with shower downstairs, extend the kitchen, move the back porch out about 10ft, heat the addition by passive solar energy and overhaul the upstairs bathroom which is Martha's biggest wish. It's one ugly feckin' bathroom right now and she wants to do a tile mosaic. And yes, believe it or not, Polaroid photography can be transferred onto ceramic tiles that are then glazed and fired.
I'm minding Elise on my own tomorrow for a few hours so I better go and get some sleep. Playing “bus,” “octopus hat,” “cups,” “the bear is gonna getcha” is more tiring than you'd believe. It's also more gratifying than a cup of tea with your granny's fresh brown bread covered in butter, if that's possible.
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21 March 2007 -
My shed
It might not look like much () but it's my favorite place to go and forget about everything for a while. Plug the iPod into the stereo for music, drink scalding hot tea, pound a few nails into something, debate where I'll put the lathe, sweep the floor in a half ass fashion, consider but never go through with taking up smoking again because sometimes the moment just feels perfect for puffing, eat Jaffa Cakes, sit, relax and just shut the fuck up for an hour or two.
Martha took the shed photo with her Polaroid 340 Land Camera which is similar to the one you see above.
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25 February 2007 -
Projects
Recent adventures ((), (), ()) describe a continuing interest in our built surroundings.
Other active projects include building furniture from discarded materials found in the city. It's insane what we throw away. Cross section of an oak board () once part of a pallet but currently waiting in my shed for reincarnation. Note the medullary rays.
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09 February 2007 -
Death of an octet of ale
I made a 1:40 scale model of our house () and then sprayed it red, red as the fires of hell. I didn't attach the front porch that wraps around the north and east sides of the ground floor () but I might get to it if the cold weather ever relents. Like I mentioned before, it's hard work trying to mess around in the shed when the mercury reads -20°C or worse.
On that same note, a cruel fate was served me last night. I left my case of Point Special beer in the front porch but due to the cold temperatures some of the beers froze, expanded and eight good bottles popped their caps. A tragedy of Titanic proportions you will understand. Eight good men lost... and for what? It's times like these I thank God for the family and friends that surround me.
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03 February 2007 -
Crazy stairs
I want to cut windows in some of the steps in our staircase. Underneath each window will be a little wooden box which will contain junk/photos/weird stuff. The box will be covered with glass.
Martha won't let me do this to our house though. She suggested I do it to the staircase I built in my two story shed. Yeah, right.
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28 January 2007 -
Furniture from what we waste
AutoCAD & Photoshop ( | |
