Saturday, August 21, 2010

Missed me

We had a great hitch this time around. The blasting team left just as the excavator got to a shelf of bedrock. It looked like the machine would have to sit for the next six days until the mountain got its bed rocked by emulite. We chewed on the problem over dinner that night and decided that we should try to get the machine over the shelf ourselves.

The day started with mucking about with a grip-hoist. I hatched a half-baked plan to tie off to an alder or ten and crab my way up the hill. We didn't feel confident about anchors and the like so we left the contraption in the conex and headed up the hill.

There's plenty of time to think on our commute. Ari thought about breaker bars and I thought about islands.

Ari attacked the bedrock with the breaker bar while Buttons and I gathered hemlock branches and bolts to make cribbing. Once the cribbing was in place, I dug a hole and filled the hemlocks with dirt and made a ramp up and over the shelf. I had to keep robbing Peter to pay Paul as I moved the island of dirt up the ramp and eventually over the bedrock. The most satisfying day of the project.

Then on my days off, someone shot at my truck as I zipped down Minnesota and blew out my back window. So now I've been shot at and I can check that off my list, which is nice.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Lightly inspired

I had a beer with my friend Heather the other night. She had wine, see there isn't any gluten in wine. Killer bees attacked her last summer and she swelled up like a redneck's pecker at a family reunion. The swelling went down but left a case of hives (bees, hives, weird, right?) for her to remember them by.

Somehow the bee stings shook up her histamine balance and left her with the horrible, horrible condition that makes beer, bourbon, and pizza poison. Humans have been ingesting gluten since before they mastered fire. So what's with the explosion in gluten-irritated bowels?

It ain't just gluten. Some kids aren't allowed to go to ball games cuz the dust on the peanuts that people at the ballpark are eating may be breathed by the kids, resulting in a stressful ride to the hospital while their throats are closing.

So what is it, what changed in the human condition? Antibacterial soap? Genetic engineering? Pesticides? Governmental population control through food-based fear?

I have no idea. What I do know is that I was bouncing round the Blogosphere the other day and came across someone that had my blog listed as one that he/she followed. I have no idea who runs "Collectors Crack," but am stoked that somehow my rants and revelations have been found by a random being riding the google machine.