Weaver Water

The bottled water craze has got thinking about how much things have changed. Watching Boo walking around here with a bottle of water in his hand, sipping out the side of his mouth (which I find infuriating) is much different than my own experience. While walking around here picking up half empty bottles and plastic caps that he enjoys throwing all over the place I can recall a simpler time when I drank from the damn garden hose.

Back in the day we had no bottled water at all, didn't exist. The only thing you were supposed to know about drinking the water was that you weren't supposed to drink from the outside taps that were irrigation water. 'Weaver Water' we called it, although I think it was actually Weber Irrigation Water. You find a hose to get a drink and some smart ass would scream "Weaver Water!' and you had to look elsewhere to slake your thirst. The Weaver faucets had these little removable handles that we briefly made a hobby of stealing until we had a box of hundreds of them and then me and Andy got caught snagging one by an old disgruntled man who had been a multiple victim. He slapped us both silly and we lost our zest for the sport. But I digress. The removable handles were made so that nobody mistook the water as potable and that kids wouldn't drink it.

After 40 years I will let you in on a dirty little secret I drank Weaver water all the damn time. You turned on the hose it looked great, cool and wet. What's the problem? Why go in the house? Fact of the matter is it never hurt me, in fact I think it made my guts stronger. I have never had Giardia or other water borne bugs bother me at all. I once took a hearty draught of Deep Creek water and then walked 50 feet upstream to view the putrified and gelatin like remains of a big fat sheep oozing into small globs that were drifting downstream. Other than some hyper gagging I was fine. From desert water holes to Mexico and back I can drink the water.

So while the next generation pussyfoots its way through a sterile world of Perrier and Aquafina I am ready for the Appocolypse when a dirty jug of Weaver Water is all you can get. I'll chug a lug that shit no problem.

For The Love of Spuds

I grew up with five brothers. Food was vitally important, we attacked the food supply with abandon. I was hungry for 17 years. I ate whenever I could and ate as much as I could as fast as I could. This has left me with a few lingering bad habits including eating too fast and eating until the food is gone. Leftovers were non-existent growing up. Never heard the word, didn't comprehend it.
When I first got married Lisa fixed me dinner and made a gigantic bowl of mashed potatoes that could have fed ten people. As was my custom I ate until it was gone. Never heard of anyone foundering themselves on potatoes until that day, and it wasn't pretty.
I remember Sunday dinners as a youngster. Pot roast, corn and mashed potatoes, mmm can still smell it. And every Sunday it was the same, mom would sit down and say the words I dreaded more than any other. "Take it easy on the potatoes" It was liked getting kicked in the junk. So the first brother to scoop spuds was watched intently by ten crazed eyeballs. If you took too much the words "pig, hog, sow" said in quick run together fashion was thrown about by everyone. After the meager portion of mashed spuds were gone it was time for Plan B which included taking a piece of bread breaking it up sacrament style and pouring gravy over it. This continued until the gravy gave out which was a sad moment indeed.
Ironically when I got older and found out how cheap potatoes were I was furious. I thought the damn things were precious, pricey, imported and hard to come by. I think my mom was limited in the cooking by too small of a cooking pot. She should have procured the biggest kettle on the market kept it boiling continuously and dumped the spuds in by the gunny sack and let us little buggers eat until we keeled over with protruding bellies and glazed over eyes.
As it is I still love potatoes especially mashed. I may still eat too much but haven't foundered myself in 20 years.

Birthaday Day

Well another b-day has came and went. Lisa told me she was giving me a couples massage. I thought that meant a couple of women would massage me but turns out she was getting a massage at the same time. Oh well, no chance of a happy finish but we had a good time. Bodie and Jett called me, it was a great phone call with Jett clearly telling me happy birthday and Bodie cracking me up with his funny stuff. I had just got back from 16 days in Nevada so I didn't want to eat out so Lisa made me a great dinner and Tasha came over and we had a fun night just hanging out at home.
Another year older, what the hell I can still move like a cat and look fantastic naked so I'm good.

Half-Assed My Way To 45

Ode To Larsen

If you haven't seen it......you need to. Bryant's Ode to Larsen is great. Click on the link to his blog on the link on right of this page. With Beards of Fire I tell ya.


or click here what the hell I'll make it easy

Technology We Can Use

Bio Diesel Fuel that we have pleny of .....Fat

To power a speed boat. Brilliant.

The Holidays Are Over

Thank The Dear Lord

First Bloggers

Your Own Radio Station

This is one cool site. Create your own radio station for free.

http://www.pandora.com/

After a few songs you have to register but it is free. Have fun.

Pumpkin Patch Kids

We took Bodie and Jett to a farm North of Spokane when they were here and picked pumpkins from the fields. It was a little cold but we had fun. I chose a lovely pumpkin that Bodie and I carved on Halloween. Ty picked a subpar melon and carved it badly.

Signs

I think this is near Provo.

Juris Duticus

Being the pillar of the community that I am, I have been called for jury duty. I reported to the Federal Courthouse in Moscow, Idaho today and it turned out to be a huge waste of my time. First a 90 mile drive then waiting around for three hours in a room with 40 other people. We watched a 20 minute video aimed at informing the complete idiot about jury duty. One big point was don't feel bad if your not selected. Really, I thought it was a popularity contest. Then they left the room for hours while the judge and attorneys were trying to work out some details, they didn't say what it was but I suspect that a plea was being negotiated. Well, it didn't happen and the judge finally came in and said to go home and check back on Wenesday to see what was up. Holy crap. Some people had drove from Bonners Ferry which is 150 miles from Moscow.
Mostly what I got out of it was a renewed sense of disgust for my fellow man. Looking around at this bunch of ass clowns for hours will do that to you. Honestly I tend to be a bit of a people hater, and I sat near some auto-parts salesman that could not for the life of him shut up for more than 20 seconds. He would talk about anything with anyone, horrible small talk that was eating my brain. Its like he feared that being alone with his thoughts for more than a minute would cause him to burst into flames. By the way if you want a diverse jury pool don't come to North Idaho, 40 people and we were all delightfully white as a Nephite. It was the dirty white boys or nothing. ( well, about ten women where there too ) Anyway, after three hours my loathing was keen as a weasel. I hope I don't have to go back and I'm sure they don't want me.

Getcha Yer Head Out

Bryant surprised me the other day when he asked if we had a basketball. In 17 years that would be the first time he wanted a sports related item of any kind. I told him to look in the garage. He comes back in with it and starts dribbling and whipping it around, decides its not good enough and heads to the store for a new one. What in the f.........?
Turns out he is in the school play "High School Muscial" and has a singing and dancing number called 'Get Yer Head In The Game' that requires a basketball and some dribbling and passing. Ahhh, makes sense now. Gotta love the Boo.

Lookout Lovenest Lovefest

I recently procured a reservation at another old firelookout in the Couer d'Alene Forest. Little Guard Lookout is ten miles up the mountain from the CDA River. Lisa agreed to go with me and we had a great time. The lookout was originally built in the early 1900's and the present structure has been there since 1950 something. It is in great shape and even had the Osburn Fire Finder still in the center of the room. It was a beautiful sunny fall day and we enjoyed the drive up. We kicked back and enjoyed the scenery. Towards evening we cooked up a delicious dinner of chicken and wild rice. We read the guest book comments for entertainment and took a walk at sunset around the peak. A storm moved in and the wind blew and rain fell all night.. At dawn I raised the stars and stripes and went downstairs and made a huge breakfast. The rain continued but we didn't care. We finally packed up and headed home. Can't wait to do it again we had a lot of fun.

Nuevo Laredo Part Tres

.........if you actually read this crap start at the first one down below.........

So now I have taken care of myself by seeing the good doctor I head back in the direction of the border. I stop at an open cantina for some much needed refreshment and rest. I get hit up some more for money by different people including a young girl who looked so tired that she could barely stand up. Breaks your heart to see that, I gave her some money and she wandered out into the street, I hoped someone was looking out for her. I watched the street scene in Nuevo Laredo for about 45 minutes, it was interesting. I walked toward the border and stopped at some small shops to look for some trinkets for the family. I saw a knockoff of a Louis Vitton purse and couldn't resist getting it for Lisa as a joke. I call it the Lewis Vitin bag. (she laughed but won't actually use it) I also bought Boo a Nacho Libre wrestling mask, I knew he would get a kick out of it. Got em both on a package deal for 20 bucks. Also grabbed some perfume and a bottle of Aquila Los Cosinozes. Had enough for one night and head to the bridge. I walk past the Mexican customs without a second glance from anyone and head out onto the bridge. As I walk across the bridge towards the U.S. Port of Entry I get a little nervous about my pharmaceuticals, I mean what is the worse that can happen. Arrest, jail, a vigorous beating I don't really know. So I grab the small package and toss it over the bridge I hear a faint splash as my precious purchase hit the black waters of the Rio Grande. Feeling safer now I approach the US gate, there is one guy there and no line whatsoever. He says hello, asks me if I have ID, I show him my drivers license he yawns and asks what I'm doing in Laredo. Once again I don't really know, he smiles and waves me through. Should have known I could get across the border with anything. I look like Howdy Doody and I'm sporting short pants and a Idaho drivers license and carrying a bag with a purse and a Nacho Libre wrestling mask. Good God I could have had 2 kilos of heroin in my underpants and walked through there and only gotten some bored looks from the border patrol. Oh well back in the USA at last. I miss Mexico terribly but sadly have nothing with which to deal with the pain.

Neuvo Laredo II

continued:

So I wandered up the street in Mexico and was attracting a lot of attention. Finally a young guy jumps in front of me and wants to know what I'm looking for. Women? Weed? Coke? Fireworks? What? I tell him no each time and he holds out his hands and says, what are you doing here? That's a good question, I'm starting to wonder myself. I go on by and walk up a couple more blocks stopping once to give a little girl some money, she was begging for her mother who was sitting on the sidewalk. I don't see anything worth stopping for and finally turn around and head back down the other side of the street. The little girl hits me up again and when I tease her about already giving her some money she smiles so cute that I give her a few more dollars.
Then the guy that stopped me before spots me and runs over, okay he says, what are you looking for. Nothing I say just looking around. Come on he says, I have women, massages, heroin, pain pills - he notices my hesitation at that one. I just drove 2300 miles I do have some pain. But I have no prescription senor. No problemo we see doctor, 10 dollars. Follow me.
So off me and my new amigo Marcos go, off the main street, past dark seedy shops, people in the shadows watching, he points to a few places - dentist, lawyer, pharmacy - all open at 11:00 at night. Just as I'm starting to think I'm being led into the barrio to be robbed and killed for fun we come to a small alley. Very dark, very narrow, not a place you would ever walk down. So we walk down it and come to a door and by this time I am starting to kind of get a fatalistic kick out of the whole thing and I don't hesitate to walk right in.
It is here in a small room with a bare light bulb hanging over a beat up metal desk that I meet Dr. Jose Antonio Cerra Quintero a real humanitarian. Dr. Quinn turns out to be a taciturn fellow wearing a ballcap that says Hurley on it. Marcos converses with him in Spanish and I start to tell him about my arthritic hip and lower back pain and so forth. Turns out that even if he could speak English he doesn't give a rip. I am offered a chair and handed a menu like I have walked into a cafe. I puruse the list of medicines carefully, pretty much anything you can think of was there and plenty I have never heard of. Like all good menus the price was also clearly marked, quite frankly I felt the prices were steep considering where I was. I felt obligated to buy something, that is only good manners I suppose. I finally settle on 10 percodans for 20 bucks. Cash please, plus ten for the Doc and five dollar tip for good old Marcos. I produce the bills and another cat comes in (Segundo).
After some agitated conversation Marcos informs me that they don't have any on hand but that Segundo can go get some but will need to take the cash. Sure fine, as long as this is all on the up and up what can go wrong. So we wait, me and Marcos joke around for a bit but the conversation lags and Doc Quin just sits there staring straight ahead. I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that my forty bucks is gone but what the hell it had entertainment value. But Segundo comes back and he has the medication. It is packaged professionaly and they tell me that I can take it across the border with the prescription I've been given as long as the package is not opened. Somehow I doubt this..........

to be continued.

Nuevo Laredo Mofo

I recently drove a truck with a drill rig mounted on it to Laredo Texas. It was a 2300 mile drive from Elko Nevada. It took three days and I saw a lot of country, some of it real familiar and some of it new. I spent one night in Delta, Utah another in Gallup, New Mexico and even one in the hell hole they call Ft. Stockton, Texas. My most interesting night was spent in Laredo, Texas. I rolled into town in the late afternoon.
I had an air brake leaking like a sumbitch and was in danger of locking it up in the middle of traffic. I stopped and got it fixed by some very cool Mexican mechanics. It was like getting it fixed in the rest of the U.S. except it was done right, real fast, real cheap and they were very nice. They even gave me a map to the Customs faciclity where I dropped the truck off as it was going to the companies operations in Mexico.
From there I took a taxi, I told the driver I wanted to go to a hotel close to the border so I could walk over. He winked and said you want some women eh? No senor, but I do want to check it out. He took me to an old tower hotel right on the friggin border overlooking the Rio Grande and one block from the bridge that takes you into Neuvo Laredo. The place once was very nice, although the room was huge and was decent with a huge floor to ceiling windows looking at the river the building was now in sad shape. The elevevator was scary as the doors only opened about eight inches and you had to pry them apart. It took forever for it to get anywhere and I finally gave up on it and walked to my room on the fourth floor.
I ate dinner in the lobby bar / restaurant and was the only one there. The food was excellent 2 enchiladas a burrito and tres coronas for 12 bucks. I then walked to the border bridge and Nuevo Laredo.
I walked across the bridge looking down at the river below, it was about 50 yards wide and had a lot water flowing. If you were to swim this at night it wouldn't be that fun. I entered into Mexico without a second glance from anyone, easy to get in I think. I head up the main street there and things look immediately different. For one,I am without exception the only white boy in the whole freakin place.

The Right Thing

I find myself one night recently at a WalMart in Fort Stockton, Texas. ( I know, this sounds like the start of a horror story ) I use the ATM to get some cash. I push the button for 80 bucks, four bills shuffle on out and I glance at the twenties quickly just to see if there is four of them. Later that night as I'm buying pork rinds and cerveza at seedy little convience store I notice that one of the bills is a fifty. Crap. Bad Karma, I don't like it. I don't have time for this bullshit. But seeing how my integrity is worth more than 30 bucks the next morning before I leave town I stop and go in the store to tell them that the machine gave me too much money. Turns out WalMart owns the machine but nobody wants to hear about it. The nice Mexican girl who is in charge of the place at this early hour clearly thinks I'm insane. I try to give her my name and number just in case but she doesn't want it.
I tell Lisa about it on the phone and she says if they don't want it back to just give it to charity. I decide she's right.
That night when I get to Laredo Texas I do my duty and get thirty single dollar bills. I go to a club and find a nice stripper named Charity and give them all to her. I have to admit doing the right thing does make you feel better.

***Disclaimer*** All true except the last part.

Brother Bear

Went fishing yesterday on the Coeur d'Alene River, a rare event this summer. It was a beautiful late summer day, just a hint of fall in the air. The fishing was a bit slow, I caught some but not many, they just didn't seem very active. The day was saved by seeing a black bear up close for a few minutes. He came across the road in front of me and stopped: trying to decide whether to go back or not. I stopped my truck and watched him for awhile forgetting about my camera that was on the seat right next to me. He finally gave a little buck and romped off into the trees. They have a funny rolling gait when they run that looks comical to watch. I like bears, it's always good to see one. It reminds me that it is still a little wild out there and on any given day you just might run into Brother Bear.

How Sweet

She's a sweet gal and it was a nice effort, but she still has troubles with shapes, its supposed to be a heart, she has her good days and her bad days.