I love the sentiment surrounding Thanksgiving. All too many have become so wrapped up in either wallowing in their victim-hood or trying to right every perceived wrong that they’ve lost sight of those things to be thankful for.

Among those I’m most grateful for are family and friends we feasted with, the pleasure of being alive and feeling great in spite of health issues and not being among those enduring frost bite to be early in line. Early in line for what? To get maced? Really? And as a reward there’s an outside chance of getting that “amazing loss leader” bargain? Nope – not for me!

I ain’t doing that, or as a conversation in the local Harbor Freight store went a couple days before “Black Friday”: Think I’ll just curl up with a cold case of beer and avoid the crowds. Mostly I’ve been doing my best to avoid the crowds since. Up to now I’d say the skill displayed avoiding frenzied shopping should rank me up with professionals.

One prediction and a couple questions have arisen and it seems so right that they be aired now during the week immediately before Christmas.

Prediction: I’m 64 years of age with health stuff that casts doubts over my life goal of dying at 150. Longevity aside I predict the Friday prior to Thanksgiving Thursday will be earmarked “Black Friday” before I assume ground temperature.

Questions:

When will it no longer be “Black Friday” and become “Black blitz on your credit cards” season?

Why isn’t the NAACP offended?

Curmudgeon and PC don’t mix well, unless PC means “Personal Computer”.

I got banned from Santa’s lap when I told him we don’t heat with coal and asked if he could put Xcel energy vouchers in my stocking instead. Guess he really does know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice. Dang!

“BREAKING NEWS: » 47-year-old patriot discovers “weird” trick to end slavery to the electricity monopoly. Discover the underground kit he used to slash his power bill by 75% in less than 30 days… before they shut him down. >>Click here to watch the shocking video now”

Considering the affiliate link made its way to my “in box” by way of a political news website I’m not at all surprised this person was referred to as a patriot. It probably wouldn’t have come across quite as well had it said “47-year old anarchist” or “47-year old traitor”. This particular site can be described as being Pro-business so I found it amusing they portray electric producers as slave owners.

Yes, I did watch the “shocking video”. Video? Well more like a power point text presentation synched with someone reading the same words. I mean really, that’s a video? And the sky is orange. The guy claims he spent about $200 to provide his home with electricity from solar and wind, then connected it into the power grid of his local electric utility and now sells power back to them. Bet you can finish this sentence: If it sounds too good to be true.

Or how about this one:

“Have You Heard About The Gluten Shocker?”

Golly, gosh, gee – I’m sixty something (at my advanced years I sometimes lose track of the something part) and I’m willing to bet that over half of my life I’ve known gluten has an adverse effect on some percentage of people. Oops! Maybe I shoulda followed the link and learned about the Gluten Shocker. Is it possible it’s a kind of electrical shock device (similar to a cattle prod) for use on gluten and using it makes gluten OK for everyone? I’ll bet that’s what it is. Sure, that’s gotta be it.

Or try this one on for size:

“—>>> Get This Shocking Free Report “The Marine Miracle” Why Marine Species Live 200 Years And Now You Can Steal Their Secret!”

A little information here folks. There are a lot of marine species and precious few see their 200^th birthday. Bet those are birthday parties to remember.

“Now you can steal their secret!” I wonder how negotiations with those marine species ended up with their secret being stolen. And If I buy from these people offering the marine species secret does it make me guilty of receiving stolen goods?

I can’t resist it: there’s something fishy here!

One final for this post:

“The Blood Sugar Shocker!”

Hmmm!

I’ll not lay claim to closely examining each of the above ads but one thing I’ve found – when there is the claim of a “shocker”, “shocking video”, “shocking report” or any variation thereof I’m consistently disappointed.

Then again how about “>>Click here to watch the disappointing video now” or “—>>> Get This Disappointing Free Report” or “Have You Heard About The Gluten Disappointment?” or “The Blood Sugar Disappointment!”

Now that would be entertaining and utterly shocking!

Anthony, the neighbor immediately to the east hauled a load of branches in and inquired if anyone had a chainsaw. Da Brudda volunteered to use his for the task. Male bonding began.

Can you possibly imagine a more perfect bonding scenario than warm weather, fire pit, branches, chainsaw, beer and testosterone? Only one way it gets better and we had that too: females talking female stuff while watching the back yard bonding in action. Of course they agreed how amusing the whole testosterone driven thing is. Meanwhile they weren’t aware we talked about how amusing they were sitting in the townhouse enjoying their estrogen driven bonding session. Speaking on behalf of males, never underestimate the power of male bonding. The youngest was about 4 (he was drinking root beer) and oldest in his 60′s (that would be me). There was no generation gap (bet you haven’t seen that phrase in a while).

All misbehaving Saturday evenings including this one must come to an end. Mercedes did what you would expect from a growing 10 year old and fell asleep in our bedroom. Heather and Janice shot knowing looks to each other and interjected comments while Jeff, Da Brudda and I indulged and solved the world’s problems. Eventually Heather (designated driver for good reason) decided it was time to take child home to bed and oh yeah, Mercedes too.

One thing about that area of West Fargo, street lights are a precious commodity and functioning ones are even more rare. It took Heather a bit of extra time in the darkness to make sure Mercedes (in zombie mode) was properly buckled in. That task accomplished she was ready to hop into the driver seat – except – where had Jeff gotten off to? Even though too dark to see him she had little trouble figuring out the flowing water sound from behind the vehicle was Jeff contributing to the storm sewer.

Don’t you love when you can assure someone they’ll never hear the end of that kind of thing? It just don’t get any better.

Golly, I sure would like to understand all that script stuff but sure ain’t gonna get proficient at it mostly ‘cuz at this age and condition odds are I’ll reach ground temperature first.  So I count on others to keep hackers away.  And when those proficient at script have this kind of trouble what are my chances?

Seriously, all I, Curmudgeon wants is to wonder onto the streets of Rantsville, greet and commiserate with other residents and share my rantings with anyone willing to listen, challenge or discuss.  Most except for the very shy or reclusive town residents likewise enjoy getting things off their chests so I’m not the town lone ranter.

Self imposed exile seems no more pleasant than any other type of exile so Rantsville will no longer be exiled whether still hacked or not.

As I was writing that “default email bounce backs” were becoming fewer and fewer.  In the last couple hours there were none.  Seems tech support found the offending script and sent it packing.  Thanks Lynnette.

Exile ends, ranting resumes and most everything has a feel of normalcy.  Guess that means Murphy is lurking nearby.

Though not a monopoly in the truest sense, after wading through the legalese of Fargo city ordinances it may lead one to believe the City Council granted one company long term exclusive rights in the cable television/internet markets. That company says “watch us make you smile”. Ever notice it’s hard to smile when in pain?

Our one year contract was about to run out. We started getting the pop-up, under (over, through, around or whatever) annoying messages reminding us the year was almost over and we should decide on a suitable package of services. Personally we wanted to go with the competing cable company. Well actually having a competing cable company in Fargo proper is getting closer but we can’t go with the competition yet. I do wonder in the past 30 years or so how many city politicians deserve extended accommodations in crowbar hotels. Anyway let’s get back to the cable monopoly making us smile.

We agreed to a more expensive one year package. Imagine that, our reward for continuing to be a customer is what? Higher cost. OK, we did get caller ID and voice mail with the phone, really fast internet (50 MB/S) and the same TV channels. Our only inconvenience would be to bring the old modem in and exchange for a new high speed modem. Plug and Play we were told, just connect everything and we’re good to go.

NOPE, not quite plug and play. First was the ‘detected new modem’ screen, you must jump through hoops of fire, endure untold torture and repeatedly agree to everything you agreed to the other day when you came in and upgraded your contract with us. Then if you kneel, bow your head and pray to the great and almighty “watch us make you smile” monopoly we may deem you worthy of receiving the service you are overcharged for but… don’t hold your mere mortal breath. Data transfer was low as 300 KB/S and after hours on the phone, customer and tech support claimed they had no record we updated our contract. Hence a third drive to their offices and a few minutes intimidating a counter person unable to explain their ineptitude brought a supervisor to the rescue. Four key strokes later our internet was working at the level we agreed to pay for.

They will make me smile the day I learn they are out of business. In the meantime I keep waiting for a competing city hall.

When CHF brings you near death it feels like you’re drowning in mid-air. Sleep only happens sitting, breathing lying down ain’t gonna happen. A single flight of stairs may require three or four stops to catch your breath. Even walking on level floors causes huffing and puffing. Call me a chicken but I’m not ready to experience that again anytime soon.

So the surgery was Tuesday. Over the next couple weeks the left arm is somewhat in limbo, not supposed to be raised above chest level, lift nothing over ten pounds and mostly do nothing that needs to be accomplished before the snows bury us. Like I said, luck of the Irish. Worst of all I was instructed to only sponge bathe for three days (everybody take a deep breath), not drive for 24 hours and riding the motorcycle is off limits for two weeks. Uff-da.

My nephew called Wednesday and informed me of the following, excerpted from the New York Times: “Wilson Greatbatch, a professed “humble tinkerer” who, working in his barn in 1958, designed the first practical implantable pacemaker, a device that has preserved millions of lives, died on Tuesday at his home in Williamsville, N.Y. He was 92.” It seems over his years of humble tinkering he invented and patented over 325 products.

Now I’m not a superstitious sort so I took it as mere coincidence the guy that invented the implantable pacemaker died the day I got a new one implanted. My nephew claims the guy stuck around long enough to make sure his invention was successfully continuing to prolong my life. More likely he gave up all hope and passed upon learning his invention is even used to keep unlucky Irishmen alive.

Yeah, I believe that, same as I believe in the abdominal snowman, green guys from other planets, the Easter pony and Peters Pan amongst numerous others. Doesn’t everyone?

Seriously, all I set out to do was lower the landing and go from five to four steps. In my minds eye the project took about 3½ minutes. Experience said it would be a two to three day project, except salvaging existing lumber and taking about ten inches off the landing length meant “dis-assembly required” so I anticipated about five days. About five days it was. Summer was eaten up by unanticipated crap. I hate when unanticipated crap does that.

Gazing at the cement block piles that supported our entryway addition, four of the six at cockeyed angles did nothing for the comfort level. Equally as uncomfortable was temporarily supporting the entryway, crawling under to remove old blocking and then (hopefully) providing more stable support. Except for being infinitely more safe, Halloween fright houses have nothing on that experience.

With precious little mobile home experience I drew upon a few years spent blocking boats approaching 30 tons and 60 feet and came to a few conclusions. 1. More square feet of base against the ground is a good thing. 2. Base thick enough to not crack or break is likewise good. 3. More supports between base and structure is good. 4. There is no such thing as overkill.

The worst was the north side which is furthest from where it butts up to the mobile home. There were only three block piles atop 5.3 ft² total ground contact base. Worse yet was the base pieces were only 1” thick cement patio blocks and under the weight of the addition they broke up and sunk into the Red River Valley clay. One thing for sure, double 16” X 16” X 2”thick patio blocks the full length of the north side meant 12.4 ft² against the ground and less chance the blocks will break up.

How I started:

In The Beginning

Then a bit of triangulation for solidity:

Sturdy Enough?

Remember conclusion # 4? There is no such thing as overkill. Bearing that in mind another 10.6 ft² of ground contact base got added to east, west and south sides of the entry. Though the entryway never felt unstable the added blocking gives a closer to rock solid feel. That’s not to say I wouldn’t prefer even more square feet of base supporting everything but with over double the original, observing what happens over winter is within my comfort level. Come spring 2012 if I’m hanging my head, kicking at the ground and going “aw shucks it needed more” you’ll know.

Then there was the challenge of stable support to reassemble the landing upon and removing one step but that’s another post.

After ruminating over Murphy and Parkinson I felt inspired to write the following “Curmudgeonly rules”: 1. When anything and everything that can go wrong has gone wrong, the next shoe is about to drop. 2. The project is proceeding properly when time available is exceeded. 3. The project isn’t done when less than available time is used, usually more will go wrong. Writing those was kinda fun.

Case in point: our front entry landing and steps. We moved in last September and over last winter concluded with the landing almost level to entry floor, opening the storm door without wrecking it after even light snowfall was quite the challenge. The solution seemed simple enough, do a little rework of the landing, lower it a few inches and we’re good to go. A one week project was anticipated, slightly longer if I slacked.

Yeah, right!

Enter Murkinson, Parphy, Markinson or Purphy (you pick or add your own bastardization). It’s an 8′ X 10′ addition on the north side of our place. Hey, how hard can it be to do that? The landing and steps are the focus anyway, so what’s the big deal? No biggy remove the steps and set them out of the way. Likewise with the landing deck boards and and frame. But, punky siding where the landing butted to both the addition and mobile home brought me to decision time. Fix or ignore was the question. Out of hand my conscience rejected ignore.

Anything (everything) that can go wrong…well you know. Each new “gone wrong” added to amount of work and time needed. First pull skirting from the addition and take a look. Although I’m not a particularly religious person, seeing cement block piles sitting at seriously askew angles had me saying “oh my God”. There are no foundations when renting a lot in a mobile home park so our entry was supported on six cement block piles placed atop much too wimpy patio blocks. Wimpy patio blocks that broke under the weight and sunk into the high clay content Red River Valley soil. They didn’t necessarily sink straight down, thus block piles at odd angles. Very spooky feeling crawling under to examine the situation. Yep, project scope expanded a bunch.

What’s a poor 64 year old white boy to do? Answer, keep plugging because readily available funds to pay someone to toil and sweat for me ain’t an option. Not only that but without stuff to keep me busy no one knows what kinds of trouble I might be in.

After examining blocking under the entry it was obvious to even the most casual observer (that would be Haskel, our fang faced gray cat) fresh blocking had to happen. Needless to say Haskel never grunted one heavy cement piece in place but to his credit he’s brought extra mice in, both kinds (dead and alive). It’s what he does and he does it well.

Completion time expanded yet again. This tale of woe (bet nobody buys that woe thing) continues soon.

Then the warning sirens and “Code Red” phone and email alerts. Even our insurance company called and emailed. Basic message: tornado warning – if in a vehicle or mobile home get out and get to a safe structure. Mobile home? For us that’s home. OK fine, leave our mobile home; then what? Logical next step, into a vehicle and off to a safe structure. Safe structure? There’s the local public elementary school half mile or so away but hey, on the Fourth Of July what were the odds? Or maybe the Catholic school about a mile away but once again my bets were on it being locked up. Five or six miles away (maybe more) is West Acres mall. Again the fourth O’ July and I’m guessing we’d have been ‘simply out of luck’ (and all this time you thought SOL meant something else).

All things considered we had three alternatives: 1) stand outside our mobile home, wait for the freight train sound; then swim in the ditch alongside University Dr. 2) Say screw it and watch the storm from our living room. 3) Drive around in search of the elusive “safe structure”.

Option 4) Recapture a little of our youth, y’know “when we were indestructible”. Yep, hop in a vehicle and go chase the storm. When chasing the storm if you end up doing battle with a tornado assume you’re not gonna win. But still, if the bottom of a water laden ditch is a consideration then driving about being a moving target sounds like a viable option too.

Janice got behind the wheel and I buckled in on the passenger side. Two beers under my belt was good reason for Janice to drive. Off we went, our quest: capture and tame the mighty twister. What did we find? Lots of rain, one helluva light show and no tornado willing to do battle despite our advanced years. Within an hour we found our way back home and all was just as we left it. Had we actually been in the path of a twister, time spent answering the phone, reading text messages and emails may have been the difference between surviving or not.

Oddly enough that youthful adrenalin thing: still there and wonderful. So far as the indestructible part goes – nope – part of youth never to be recaptured. Dang!

Future 10:00 PM tornado warnings may well find us driving about chasing the twister while being a moving target. Who says there’s no excitement in North Dakota?

Yep, our lawn tractor had a little Murphy problem. Somehow he knew I would drive the tractor over a tree root, sling a chunk of that root about 30′ and that was when what could go wrong did. This particular mower deck has counter rotating blades driven by a special timing belt so you can synch them to not smash into each other. When that belt breaks Sears online parts reaches into your pocket, removes your wallet and takes $130.49 plus shipping. Ouch! I’ll just bet that crazy Irishman (aka Murphy) enjoyed himself immensely while I was gasping and squirming over that price. So I set out to turn the tables on Murphy.

Within minutes of logging in to eBay and doing a search using the part number I was looking at a $75 price and $6.10 shipping. The belt arrived Wednesday afternoon and by the time Janice got home from work the moment of truth was at hand. That is if I could find the ignition key. Oh yeah, in my pocket along with motorcycle and truck key rings.

The moment of truth, engine warmed up and running, mower deck height adjusted and me nearly paralyzed. Ease the engine speed up, grasp the mower engage lever and take a deep breath before moving it to engaged position. In that moment between belt not engaged and engaged was dreaded anticipation there would be an unmistakable sound of blades smashing together. That would have provided Murphy further proof what can will go wrong and one more victory. Or maybe all would work as anticipated and mean what could go wrong for Murphy did. Wouldn’t that be sweet?

Lever still in hand still hesitating while the mind went through an instant replay of my work to assure nothing was overlooked. Almost unintentionally I flipped the lever to engaged position, mower deck shuddered side to side and then: the hum of two blades whirling beneath my feet. One pass up and back was enough to satisfy the ego. It was time to call it a day, halt the physical stuff for a Wednesday, wonder into the house and brag to Janice. Hey Murphy, take that!

Thursday brought forecasts of several days rain making it a good day to mow. Again all worked smoothly and I was feeling pretty smug over this little victory. That is except as I began the first pass and recalled a previously unheard sound the truck made at 75MPH and above. Dog gone it Murphy!