The Mad Ripper of Marble

He struck again. This time his rage was directed toward a poster from another town. It was torn off, stepped on, crumpled up, and (gasp!) REPINNED to the plywood door on the Fed Ex box using only ONE PIN! What could it mean? What message is he trying to send us?

For the last several months, someone, or someTHING has been taking down posters, banners, fliers, and notices that people staple at the multi mailbox area at the bottom of our road. Ironically, there seems to be some type of pattern, so we hired a private detective from England. He came up with several interesting clues:

  1. Fliers containing missing animals are “safe”.

  2. Multiple fliers will always be attacked, unless they contain the words “private”, “campfires”, or “neighborhood”.

  3. The word “Woody” scores bonus points, and assures immunity from the Mad Ripper (we ALL love Woody and his wife. They brought food to our town.).

     

    In order to be allowed placement on the “open to the public” flier area, potential pieces of paper must be submitted for review to an unknown entity at an unknown address, and meet unknown criteria. This is easy enough.

Some suggestions have been bandied about how we can have fun at the expense of the Mad Ripper. We could put up a note like this one:

Dear Fellow Neighbors,

I’m tearing down every piece of paper that I don’t want to see on this space. You people don’t understand the unwritten rules for posting things here.

Signed,

The Mad Ripper

When the Mad Ripper tears down the “note” that we put up, we can replace it with another one like this:

Dear Fellow Control Freaks,

Some impostor is pretending to be me. I am the original Mad Ripper. Notice how I rip down the posters, and fliers around here. There is no one as good at it as me. Just because some poser smart Alec doesn’t like what I do gives them no right to imitate me.

Sincerely,

The REAL Mad Ripper

Then we will rip down most of the above letter, leaving the phrase “mart Alec” and “ad Ripper” on it.

After a few days, we will tear that note off, and replace it with 50 fliers stapled up which read,

Lost Woody

Somewhere in our neighborhood, there is a private animal.

If found, please build a campfire.

Then we will tear off all of those fliers, and staple them upside down. After a week, we will take all of them down. Then we will take a plain 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper with no writing on it. We will staple it to the Fed Ex box with 500 staples, and no comment.

This is going to be fun.

It’s Been a Flat Year

First I tried “Old McDonald Had a Farm”. It was OK. Then I tried “The 1812 Overture”. That didn’t go so well. As my son, Caleb was threading the rubber plug material into the tire repair tool, I was playing songs on the tire with the air leaking out of the hole. It was his second repair in the last 10 minutes. And it’s only 7:30 am. We need to leave for work in a few minutes.

Yesterday, we had a flat out in front of Walmart on the main road. I mean, where you couldn’t pull off unless you parked on the sidewalk like they do in Ankara, Turkey. I changed out the tire to the spare while the kids were in the store buying birthday presents and other necessities. ( Did you know that at Walmart a pair of pliers costs less than a box of Cheese Crackers?) It was 99 degrees out. Why did we come down out of the cool mountains, anyway?

I’ve had so many flat tires this summer, that my wife and I can’t recount them all..

One memorable flat involved Big-O tires. To be fair, they have repaired about 10 of the flats- 9 of them for free. Nonetheless, I had a leak on the Suburban tire. The manager at Big-O said “It’s too big of a hole. We can’t fix it.”

“Can’t you put a patch or boot on the inside?” I asked.

“No good. Eez too small,” I was assured by the repairman, as he held up a tiny round rubber disc.

“Put it on, anyway,” I demanded.

While the guy was starting the process, I ran next door to the auto parts store, grabbed a Tire Patch Kit with larger patches in it, waited patiently/impatiently/patiently/impatiently in line, “Thanks for your patience” said the cashier, (also, see “Egyptian Jazz” to see how patient I really can be), ran back to Big-O, and handed the largest patch to the tire repair guy. Heez eyes got real big, and he said “Where you git deeze?”

“Next door, at the auto parts store” I replied.

He ripped the small patch off, and put the bigger one on.

Flat tires wouldn’t be such a problem if I didn’t live in such a remote area. 30 miles to town can be a problem, and why is it that you notice 50 percent of your flat tires in the evening, just as the repair places are shutting down for the night?

My son and I can change a flat tire on a Subaru in under 3 minutes. I wish we were on an Indy pit crew, or racing in Dakar, or Baja. I’d also like to meet Iron Man Stewart. He’s cool.

So, I’m back at the 1812 Overture, and it’s sounding more like a party balloon in a Fraternity House member’s armpit. I think it would sound better if we pumped the tire up to about 50 lbs. pressure.

Now we’ve got something going! Hey what’s that sound? Are those the cannons going off in the “1812”, or my other 3 tires exploding?…

The Midnight Rodeo

It’s midnight. My eyes pop open. I’m laying in bed, slightly sweating from all of the solar radiation that I picked up today. There it is again, the unmistakable sound of footsteps up on our east porch.

I get up, grab my solar flashlight, and put on a bathrobe and DC flipflops. As I climb the stairs, I can softly hear the animal walking outside of the house. I top the stairs and shine the light out the dining room window. There, the two beady eyes look in through the glass at me from a distance of about 6 feet away. The eyes are red in the light.

I walk quietly over to the French doors, and open one gently. Stepping out onto the porch to face my foe, I approach the beast. Pandora’s Box opens up…

act 1.

I yell an Indian war cry and wave my hands in the air as I rush the animal.

The offending beast takes off, away from me toward the garage end of the deck.

Seeing the ladder and Tweety Bird folding chairs stacked at the end of the deck, the intruder turns 180 degrees, and runs straight toward me!

I lunge for the animal, determined to rid my property of its presence.

The speeding nymph pulls free of my grasp and runs to the French doors.

With only a slight pause, the beast enters my home. It is now inside of my house!

I run inside the house, confronting the white specter, yelling, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

A nasty square dance ensues, with the beast, two glass doors, a pile of house building tools , clean laundry hanging up, and myself.

The solar light is shorting out, and blinks on and off wildly; like some cheap disco effect.

The intruder stumbles out of my house and onto the deck.

I chase the beast around my house several times, throwing small rocks at its hind quarters, in a vain attempt to chase it off of my property.

It likes my house and property…

act 2.

I’m in the basement, yelling at my wife to get up and help me capture the animal.

She’s bleary eyed from lack of sleep, and a bit confused.

It’s 12:30 am, and I’ve been squaring off with the animal for over a half hour, now.

I’m exhausted, frustrated, and my blood pressure is nearing the “hospitalization” threshold.

act 3.

My oldest daughter is calmly standing on the east porch, with a lasso around the wild creature’s neck.

I show up in my bathrobe and flipflops and ask her how she did it.

The animal lunges down the length of the deck, toward the Tasmanian Devil folding chair, and launches off of a 5 ft. high spot.

My daughter hangs on for dear life, trying not to be pulled off of the deck.

She’s now wrestling with the midnight intruder and it’s dragging her towards the cliff next to our house.

I scream at my daughter to help her, and she says, “Leave me alone! I’ve got it!”

A lot of yelling ensues, mostly from my end. I grab the rope, and drag the animal with all of my might. It is kicking and flopping and pulling both me and my daughter along a steep moonlight hillside.

There are pleas for mercy, and the animal lays nearly motionless on the dirt.

Suddenly, it jumps up and the fight begins again.

We wrestle it generally in the direction of our intended goal…

act 4.

The lamb is now safely in our shed, being comforted by my daughter.

I’m nailing boards on the doors like Wiley Coyote, as I try to secure that sheep for the night. It reminds me of another time I had to do this same type of thing. But that’s another story…

I put a pan of water into the shed.

My wife is stumbling around in the moonlight, wearing her pajamas.

She’s pulling grass for the lamb.

My daughter is removing multiple ropes from the now-docile lamb.

We waddle back across the steep hillside.

It’s 1:30 am.

It’s time to go to bed.

My daughter won the belt buckle.

The Midnight Rodeo is over.

Egyptian Jazz

The telephone is taped to my head in this picture. 

“Your patience is greatly appreciated…” I’m sitting here with the phone taped to my head, waiting for the claims assistant with the Colorado Division of Unemployment. It’s electrical tape, not duct tape, so I think it will come off fairly easily.

I’ve been out of work (“Your patience is greatly appreciated…”) for several weeks and decided that my applications to City Market, as well as other businesses, will never result in a job. For some reason, the family isn’t interested in staying home and eating thistles for the next 4 months, so the unemployment gig is the only way to avoid mutiny for now.

By the way, that City Market (“Your patience is greatly appreciated…”) application had a 100 question psychological profile on it. It’s degrading to have them ask the same question two different ways at seemingly unrelated places in the questionnaire. Do they really think that you won’t notice it? Question number 29, “Do you hate cats?”, and question number 62, “How likely are you to buy a birthday card for a cat?”, have nothing to do with overripe bananas, in my opinion. (“Your patience is greatly appreciated…”)

I like the Egyptian Jazz, and the Pink Panther-esque song makes me feel like they are hot on my trail, looking up facts, making phone calls, and super sleuthing their way through my case, even though I’m still on hold.

I’ve been on the (“Your patience is greatly appreciated…”) phone and computer off and on since Sunday evening, trying to report my job search history, and apply for unemployment benefits (read, “money”). This being Wednesday, I kicked my efforts into overdrive. I made my first call at 7:30 a.m.

It’s now 9:42 a.m. I’m still on hold, hence the tape. At 8:30 a.m., I started getting hypothermia from sitting still in a cold room. We are high in the Colorado Rockies, you know.

Did you know that the Egyptian Jazz repeats every 90 minutes?

I got cut off after being on hold for (“Your patience is greatly appreciated….”) 1 hour and 10 minutes, so this is my second session. In between the two sessions, I ran for a quick sip of water, like a marathon runner at an “aid station”. As I walked by my wife, I smiled weakly, and told her, “I’ve got the pioneer spirit, so I’ll get back on the phone and wait on hold.” I call, get a busy signal, hang up, and then lift the phone and hit “redial” about 150 times just so I can MAKE it to hold.

I can just imagine settlers with their wagons circled, and Pawnees shooting (“Your patience is greatly appreciated…) flaming arrows at them, hearing the Wagon Master yelling, “The Cavalry will be here in 120 minutes! Your patience is greatly appreciated!”

My forehead is starting to hurt from the tape, and my left ear feels like a manhole cover is laying on it. I need to tape the phone to my other ear. The Egyptian Jazz is starting to repeat every 5 minutes now.

The best advice I can give anyone who is about to become unemployed is to buy a speaker phone.

If National Health Care becomes a reality, then about 320 million Americans, plus illegals, will be on the phone trying to set up appointments, buy prescription drugs, resolve conflicts, and sign up for the system. I think in the future, we ALL are going to be hearing a lot of Egyptian Jazz.

The 1551 GluLam Jig

 Yesterday, the Big Kahuna beam in our new house slid down into place and was nailed off. My son Caleb, daughter Heidi, and son Joshua, all helped put that beast into its pocket and nail it down. We lowered it gently down to its resting place using a HiLift jack from my Jeep, Festus. That GluLam beam is 6 3/4” x 24” x 28 feet long.

After we get done with a big milestone when building on our house, those present do a jig. We’ve done the First Floor Jig, Loft Jig, Stairsteps Jig, East Deck Jig, West Deck Jig, Quackaback Jig, and a host of other jigs. It’s all part of being part Irish, I guess. I’m half Irish, and half Swiss. I don’t know wether to fight, or just sit back and watch ’em go to it.

Anyway, Caleb and I nailed the beam off so it wouldn’t wobble, and we got up on top of it from opposite ends. After a while, we walked out to the middle of the ridgbeam, like Sir Robin Hood, and Friar Tuck , where we did the 1551 GluLam Jig. Why 1551? Caleb is 15 yrs. Old, and I am 51. What a cool age for me to be able to build my house with my son who is more of a man than a lot of guys I know who are twice his age.

1551 is a pretty perfect age combo for a father and son to build a chalet high in the mountains and do a jig on a ridge beam. Try some other combos and it might get a little scarey. Like 1661, 1771, or 1881. How about 1221? Now that freaks me out a bit.

So Caleb and I are doing the 1551 GluLam Jig on a beautiful sunny Colorado day, with high mountains surrounding us. Heidi is taking pictures, and so is a friend who just happened to stop by. (When you build a house like this one, people stop by all the time because its so cool and they want to see what new thing has happened since last time. Besides, my family has a lot of friends, and we all love each other. Loving people is one of the most incredible things we will experience here on earth.)

Caleb and I laugh about falling off of the ridge beam. “You only need enough space for the size of your footprint!” is Caleb’s favorite saying. At 6 ¾ inches wide, there isn’t even enough space for all of your footprint. Some of your toes are flapping in the breeze. It goes without saying that the 1551 GluLam Jig is more subdued than say, the Art Studio Jig, which went on so long that people were dropping out. Yep, that was an endurance contest.

Now that the roof is headed for being covered, we’ve got a lot of work to do before winter sets in. The house needs insulation, shingles, plumbing, electrical work, and drywall; we have to cut about 6 cords of firewood, and we need to find a new high groundclearance, fuel efficient, fourwheel drive, guided missle for our family car. I can’t wait to do the High Groundclearance Jig with my family on top of a new used Suburban…