Rudyard Kipling, Stephen King, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke, Cory Doctorow, Charles Dickens Ursula K. Le Guin, Mark Twain.....and who knows who else. The list may be endless, although it seems to land on Cory Doctorow more than often.
It's a neat site to visit. Go see who writes like you.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I was a little worried.....
...that Mostly Cajun was gone. I've been reading the blog for years and would miss it if it was gone.
Not so. He had some problems with his domain, but has mostly straightened out the mess.
I don't remember how I found the site, but it was years ago. Over time, I've spent many hours reading there and following MC's daily reports on his life. It's all been good and, to me, most enjoyable were the posts on 'Lil 'Dumplin, which is a boat that has a history.
After finding the boat, he went to a marina in Clear Lake, Texas, made the deal and sailed her from there to Lake Charles, Louisiana. The trip was not without incident; most notably 'Dumplin sinking near Port Arthur, Texas. That's when I met MC. I had read a post by his wonderful friend Chrissy, who had informed his followers the boat sank. I was finishing up at work, had a pump available and went to offer assistance.
I had noticed 'Lil 'Dumplin when I travelled by the marina before she sank. All I can say is that it was a fine boat indeed. When I arrived and saw her on the bottom, I had that sick feeling, which I'm sure was only a twinge compared to what MC was feeling. It was a sad site indeed, but to really get a feeling for the event, you need to go read about her on his site. Type in Dumplin in his search pane and the posts will appear.
I think you'll want to visit his site every day. He is the epitome of the Cajun culture and is a wizard with large things that use lightning for power.
Not so. He had some problems with his domain, but has mostly straightened out the mess.
I don't remember how I found the site, but it was years ago. Over time, I've spent many hours reading there and following MC's daily reports on his life. It's all been good and, to me, most enjoyable were the posts on 'Lil 'Dumplin, which is a boat that has a history.
After finding the boat, he went to a marina in Clear Lake, Texas, made the deal and sailed her from there to Lake Charles, Louisiana. The trip was not without incident; most notably 'Dumplin sinking near Port Arthur, Texas. That's when I met MC. I had read a post by his wonderful friend Chrissy, who had informed his followers the boat sank. I was finishing up at work, had a pump available and went to offer assistance.
I had noticed 'Lil 'Dumplin when I travelled by the marina before she sank. All I can say is that it was a fine boat indeed. When I arrived and saw her on the bottom, I had that sick feeling, which I'm sure was only a twinge compared to what MC was feeling. It was a sad site indeed, but to really get a feeling for the event, you need to go read about her on his site. Type in Dumplin in his search pane and the posts will appear.
I think you'll want to visit his site every day. He is the epitome of the Cajun culture and is a wizard with large things that use lightning for power.
Spider Massacre
Over the weekend, I noticed that the orb spiders that built their webs higher in the trees were gone. It wasn't just one here or there; they were all gone. It's a little early for this to happen, but I'm thinking I might have seen the curlprit.
I caught a glimpse of something bright yellow in a large oak tree. I turned and focused on the spot and found a small yellow bird, which I'm guessing is some kind of finch. I'm, also, guessing it's migratory and this is a food stop on the way further south. From the way it flew between the trees, I think it was looking for another meal before moving on. I don't know, but it was all too coincidental.
I caught a glimpse of something bright yellow in a large oak tree. I turned and focused on the spot and found a small yellow bird, which I'm guessing is some kind of finch. I'm, also, guessing it's migratory and this is a food stop on the way further south. From the way it flew between the trees, I think it was looking for another meal before moving on. I don't know, but it was all too coincidental.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Question
Since the shuttle program ended, and the Soyuz program is grounded, do you think the astronauts aboard the Space Station might be having second thoughts?
I do.
I do.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Me and My Machette
When I first moved from home, my first apartment was a garage apartment in my hometown. For those that don't know what that is, it's an apartment built over a garage.
Usually, a garage apartment was built completely over the garage. Stairs lead to the apartment, and some were fairly large, if the garage was built for more than two cars.
Mine was a little different. It was a single car garage. The kitchen and bathroom were two small rooms on the ground floor. There was an interior stair, besides the outside stair, which had been removed due to age and neglect. The door was still there, but the screen door was nailed shut to prevent unwanted exits.
Upstairs was a small "living room" attached to a just as small bedroom. A small porch was built at the front, which provided an awning over the entry downstairs. I'd sit for hours listening to my stereo, while I built a large drip candle. I couldn't afford a television, so I would mostly just stare, smoke cigarettes and drink a beer, or two.
For the first year I lived there, I didn't have air conditioning, which led to some miserable nights. The typical Summer night in my hometown usually meant humidity near 100 percent and temperatures in the upper 70's. To cope, I'd open all the windows and sit in front of a fan. I'd always close the "door to nowhere" at night, when I went to bed.I eventually placed a small window unit in the bedroom, but that's another story of how I acquired the air conditioner.
When I left to work offshore, I'd close all the windows, lock the doors and make one last check of the refigerator. I'd throw away the milk, which usually wouldn't last, but it was great for teaching friends not to drink straight from the bottle. I broke a friend of the practice after he took a large swig of curdled milk after I had repeatedly told him to stop. I guess I could have warned him, but I didn't. Don't ask me why.
After one week offshore, I returned home, made a trip to the grocery store and finally went to bed. I was exhausted and needed to rest. I went through my usual night procedures, which were to open the windows , close the door to the bedroom and go to bed.
Late that night, thunder woke me from my sleep. A strong thunderstorm was coming and I immediately started thinking of getting up and lowering the windows.
Before I could move, the door to nowhere started opening. It was that eerie slow squeal of hinges and I could see the light from the streetlamp appear under the door. A thousand thoughts went through my mind at that moment. Who was coming in? Who, or what? After all, it was 12 feet to that door. What could be coming in?
I crept from bed and grabbed my machette, which I kept next to my bed. I slowly eased to the door and listened. The storm had now arrived and I could hear rain hitting that side of the house. It was time to do something, although that something wasn't what I really wanted to do. Since there was no escape, I reached for the knob and carefully opened the door. I wanted to be very quiet and surprise whoever, or whatever was in the living room.
As I opened the door, machette in my hand, I carefully looked at the screen door. There was nobody there. I looked around the room; still nobody. I went to the front screened porch; still nobody. I was alone- maybe. I still had to search downstairs. Lightning flashes deepened the shadows. The momentary flashes made the entire episode surreal.
The trip down the stairs probably took five minutes. Every step was measured and checked, so I didn't make any noise. My ears listened for the tiniest of sounds, although the raging storm was making the task difficult. I finally made it to the kitchen; nobody there. Checked the bath; nobody there. I checked the front door; it was still locked.
I started turning on lights, just to verify I hadn't missed something in the shadows and started pulling the windows down to keep the rain out. Eventually I went and examined the door to nowhere. It was locked. Apparantly, when I had left for work, I had pulled the door closed, but it hadn't latched. It was the wind. The thunderstorm had arrived from the right direction, with the right strength - at the perfect time.
I didn't sleep well the rest of that night, even though the storm had brought a welcome cool breeze. I was still on edge and had to keep one eye open...just in case.
Usually, a garage apartment was built completely over the garage. Stairs lead to the apartment, and some were fairly large, if the garage was built for more than two cars.
Mine was a little different. It was a single car garage. The kitchen and bathroom were two small rooms on the ground floor. There was an interior stair, besides the outside stair, which had been removed due to age and neglect. The door was still there, but the screen door was nailed shut to prevent unwanted exits.
Upstairs was a small "living room" attached to a just as small bedroom. A small porch was built at the front, which provided an awning over the entry downstairs. I'd sit for hours listening to my stereo, while I built a large drip candle. I couldn't afford a television, so I would mostly just stare, smoke cigarettes and drink a beer, or two.
For the first year I lived there, I didn't have air conditioning, which led to some miserable nights. The typical Summer night in my hometown usually meant humidity near 100 percent and temperatures in the upper 70's. To cope, I'd open all the windows and sit in front of a fan. I'd always close the "door to nowhere" at night, when I went to bed.I eventually placed a small window unit in the bedroom, but that's another story of how I acquired the air conditioner.
When I left to work offshore, I'd close all the windows, lock the doors and make one last check of the refigerator. I'd throw away the milk, which usually wouldn't last, but it was great for teaching friends not to drink straight from the bottle. I broke a friend of the practice after he took a large swig of curdled milk after I had repeatedly told him to stop. I guess I could have warned him, but I didn't. Don't ask me why.
After one week offshore, I returned home, made a trip to the grocery store and finally went to bed. I was exhausted and needed to rest. I went through my usual night procedures, which were to open the windows , close the door to the bedroom and go to bed.
Late that night, thunder woke me from my sleep. A strong thunderstorm was coming and I immediately started thinking of getting up and lowering the windows.
Before I could move, the door to nowhere started opening. It was that eerie slow squeal of hinges and I could see the light from the streetlamp appear under the door. A thousand thoughts went through my mind at that moment. Who was coming in? Who, or what? After all, it was 12 feet to that door. What could be coming in?
I crept from bed and grabbed my machette, which I kept next to my bed. I slowly eased to the door and listened. The storm had now arrived and I could hear rain hitting that side of the house. It was time to do something, although that something wasn't what I really wanted to do. Since there was no escape, I reached for the knob and carefully opened the door. I wanted to be very quiet and surprise whoever, or whatever was in the living room.
As I opened the door, machette in my hand, I carefully looked at the screen door. There was nobody there. I looked around the room; still nobody. I went to the front screened porch; still nobody. I was alone- maybe. I still had to search downstairs. Lightning flashes deepened the shadows. The momentary flashes made the entire episode surreal.
The trip down the stairs probably took five minutes. Every step was measured and checked, so I didn't make any noise. My ears listened for the tiniest of sounds, although the raging storm was making the task difficult. I finally made it to the kitchen; nobody there. Checked the bath; nobody there. I checked the front door; it was still locked.
I started turning on lights, just to verify I hadn't missed something in the shadows and started pulling the windows down to keep the rain out. Eventually I went and examined the door to nowhere. It was locked. Apparantly, when I had left for work, I had pulled the door closed, but it hadn't latched. It was the wind. The thunderstorm had arrived from the right direction, with the right strength - at the perfect time.
I didn't sleep well the rest of that night, even though the storm had brought a welcome cool breeze. I was still on edge and had to keep one eye open...just in case.
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