blog kabin fever

no, earlier

2008-12-21T23:04:00.006-07:00

As much as I would like to feature one of my recent art projects on Cards in the Attic, I just couldn’t bring myself to post something on that blog that has nothing to do with either baseball or trading cards. I considered trying to justify the entry by discussing that one of the main reasons I was eager to work on this project is that I consider it a step forward in the direction of creating an opportunity where I will get to design trading cards to be published by a professional sports team. At any rate, it is probably a more appropriate time to dust off the old Blog Kabin Fever login and add some long overdue content.

I started picking up a little freelance graphic work with the Albuquerque Thunderbirds, our local semipro basketball team, at the tail end of this past summer when I was already splitting my time finishing up the Isotopes season and getting cranked up working in the video department at the racetrack. A fistful of print ads and a brochure announcing tryouts for the team’s dance squad later, and I found myself designing the official 2008-2009 Storm Chasers calendar. It was a fun project.

I did not shoot the photos of the dancers, but rather utilized those provided by Kim Jew Photography. I didn’t have any sort of calendar layout software, so I simply did the work in Adobe Photoshop and Illustrator.

The 14-month calendar features 17 different dancers, a 12”x18” team centerfold, some advertising and the basketball schedule, seating chart and ticket sales information. The calendars include date-specific reminders for Thunderbirds home games as you can see for yourself in this peek ahead to January 2009…

These things are selling for ten bucks each at Albuquerque Thunderbirds games, various fundraisers and Storm Chasers public appearances. I do not believe they are available on the Thunderbirds website, so let me know if you need one or more of these for your home or office wall- or as a gift for your favorite mechanic, and I’ll see what I can do. You shouldn’t sweat it if you don’t pick one up before the start of the New Year since they will work again for the year 2015 (as well as 2026). By that I mean that the days will all line up correctly, but there may be slight shifting of a holiday or two. The dancers’ birthdays will still fall on those dates in 2015, but they will not have aged a full six years (according to Mayan calculations and theorems).

The bottom line is that the client was pleased with the product, I like the final result, and it provides me with an interesting addition to my portfolio of commercial and other artwork. Well, a couple of quick glances and a double-take at my calendar revealed that Krismas is only a few days away, and blogging isn’t going to help get the tree decorated.

where's the baseball?

2008-02-07T22:00:00.000-07:00

A bit of a programming change to note for those readers who swing by here to check out my baseball-related musings…

Although I may include some stuff about baseball here from time to time, I expect that the majority of that sort of content will instead be funneled through the blog created in support of the new trading card business I have partnered into called Aardvark Trading Co.

Be sure to add “Cards in the Attic” to your RSS reader in order to keep up to date on all my published writings.

when in n'walins

2008-02-04T23:59:00.000-07:00

Yes, I will gladly pay you next Fat Tuesday for a crawdaddy today. Happy Mardi Gras to those still sober enough to read. Krej skjsl pqki yb wjsg to the rest of you. (Either way, don't forget to click on the image!)

I must say that the reactions to my komix so far have ranged from gentle recommendations that I find some sort of day job to utter confusion. I received the following telegram after I published my last offering “Used Car Salesmen.”

“Dear Kris, STOP

Please cancel my subscription to your blog. STOP

You may keep the change. STOP

Signed, Anonymous. STOP”

raise high the roof beam, kristopher

2008-01-24T02:48:00.000-07:00

(Alternate working title for this entry was “papa got a brand new shop-vac filter.”)

Those of you who enjoyed reading about my bathroom renovation project during the autumn of 2006 may be in for a real treat as I turn my eyes toward our unfinished attic. My goal is to determine the feasibility of converting it into a functional living space that would serve as a bedroom.

The first order of business is to clean up some 102 years worth of dust and to create strong, well-defined walking paths to help prevent anyone (say a contractor or myself) from crashing through the non-existent “floor” during subsequent inspections. Tomorrow I need to hang some brightly colored flagging tape in the areas right before where I’ve been crashing head first into the rafters while concentrating on proper feet placement.

As it currently stands, the only access to the original attic is through a small hole cut into the roof. That portion of the roof was encapsulated within an addition that I believe dates to the 1920s. I can access that portion of the attic through a tiny trap door in the ceiling of our diner room. Two smaller attic areas resulting from later additions (40s and 50s?) are also present within the space. It is a real mishmash of rooflines, construction debris, and a jungle of old and new electrical wiring that would have made Nikola Tesla’s hair stand on end. The space probably should be cleaned up no matter what in order to help prevent termites from ever feeling welcome. Clearly too low for comfortable living spaces, those pockets still could provide an amazing amount of storage.

Not wanting to climb over the ductwork for our swamp cooler to access the main attic area, I set about creating a new “doorway” by removing the old wood shingles from the original roof, and cutting away sections of spaced sheathing between two rafters. It is still a tight squeeze, but if you can fit through the trap door in the ceiling, this is a slice of cake. To give you an idea of the size of the trap door, it is too small for my 10-gallon shop-vac to fit through. Luckily, I was able to remove the single window on the front of the house and pull the shop-vac up and through (in pieces).

It is very interesting how easily the old wooden shingles crumble in my hands. It is even more frightening to see how quickly they burn. Another great reason to get them out of the attic!

At first glance, and not knowing anything about the process, I estimate that there is enough space up there to at least proceed with the process. There are also a few issues that could possibly be addressed by a well-planned remodel. For instance, at some point in time, it appears that a large tree (I assume one of those hideous Chinese Elms that dot the neighborhood) crashed into the roof and damaged a couple of rafters. Possibly, that area would be a good choice for the location of a dormer. Quite possibly, having the ability to show existing damage that should be repaired would go provide a good starting point when explaining any proposed project to the historic buildings commission. I’m quite sure that they would have to approve the addition of something such as a dormer or even a skylight.

I know they sometimes offer tax credits to refurbishing historic structures, but I’m not sure if that includes just repairing a roof. Obviously that is something else to check into before making any decisions.

Watch for more exciting updates in the near future!

lettie's memory book

2008-01-15T21:31:00.001-07:00

My “Lettie Mize Research Project” led me down a path this week that I had not anticipated traveling. I spent several hours Monday afternoon in the historic records office at the Monte Vista Christian Church reading through old documents and chatting with a very nice woman connected to the church’s history committee. I really wasn’t sure what sort of additional information I would gather from that source, but given that Lettie and Isaac Mize were both charter members of the church having split from Albuquerque’s Broadway Christian Church in 1931, I figured it was worth a shot. As interesting as the details behind that split are, they are beyond the scope of my original research goals- to locate photographs of Lettie and her family, preferably photos taken in the house or in the yard. But if you really want to hear the details, ask me sometime over a beer.

One of the items I began thumbing through at the church was this several-inch-thick red scrapbook that was filled with newspaper clippings, photos, copies of mimeographed weekly church bulletins, hand written notes and various other ephemera entitled “The Book of Remembrance.” As it turns out, Lettie was a bit of a history buff, and it appears that she would have wholeheartedly approved of my project. The book was one of her pet projects.

It was very interesting to see all the stuff that Lettie and Isaac were involved with in the church. However, it made me wonder if all those commitments left them with enough free time to follow baseball. Probably not. It is beginning to look like my only hope of ever finding OLD baseball cards squirreled away in the house is if their son Wallace chose to rebel and run off to the ballpark instead of attending church. I KNOW he played marbles.

Although I generally attempt to avoid stealing ideas and words from other people, I can’t help but include a portion of text that was prepared by Lettie, and delivered to the congregation during a ceremonial dedication of “The Book of Remembrance” on June 25, 1953. While you are reading that, I will be deciding whether I should record the names of all the committees Lettie served on during her 41 years with the church, so take the easy route and only list the ones she wasn’t involved with.

“But memory is an individual thing. Your memories are different from mine. We would not all agree on the important events that have taken place in our congregation.

Even if men were absolutely authentic and infallible, we don’t live in this world forever. While we are here, we are helping to make history. But no one will ever know about it unless it is recorded for future generations to read.

Someone has said, “One who knows nothing about his ancestry cares little about his posterity.” (See, even Lettie saw fit to using someone else’s words once in a while!) So we might say one who knows nothing of the past takes little interest in moulding the future.

We are indebted to the past. What we are today, we owe largely to the generations that have gone before. What we do today is the past history of tomorrow.

All this is true with families, so it is true with nations and congregations. Someone laid the foundation, others built thereon, and still others added to what they found. (I wonder if she wrote this stuff in the same room of the house that now serves as blog kabin central.)

In order to keep the record straight and that your account and my account may not conflict, we need a place in which to record important events as they take place so that our great, great grandchildren can say, “Look, ‘The History of Monte Vista’ says”----

The planning and recording for the beginning of the book will take time. Old records will have to be found and verified. There will have to be consultations with members who were “witnesses” from the beginnings.”

There is another full page of text that spells out what sorts of information would be recorded in the book, including photostatic copies of signatures of charter members; photos and details of ministers; lists of memorial gifts and donors; copies of programs of historical value; lists of names of all young people in the Armed Forces during World War II; and much more.

Lettie’s text concluded after describing the scene of how “The Book of Remembrance” would be paraded out into the congregation after she completed her oration. During the singing of the hymn “Follow in Their Train,” the book was to be carried down the aisle by a child on top of a white pillow adorned with purple streamers. After that, a prayer was offered to ask that the book be revered as the years pass, and serve as an “example and inspiration to each succeeding generation.”

It really is a neat piece of local history. Unfortunately, it seems that I am one of the few people who has shown much interest in the document for quite some time. I wouldn’t classify the document as “dusty,” but it was clear that the book hadn’t received all the attention it had become accustomed to once Lettie retired her scissors and rubber cement in the late 60s.

Ultimately, I was quite pleased with the new source of information, as I was able to finally locate a photograph of Lettie. This one was taken around 1967ish when Lettie was in her mid 70s.

Another interesting tidbit I brought away from the church was the discovery that Lettie served as the Superintendent of the church’s “Junior Mission Band.” That, and the fact that they often held practice in what is now our living room. I’m beginning to suspect that Lettie didn’t keep any cats in the house.

excitable boys

2008-01-11T14:42:00.000-07:00

I’ve noticed a trend among the various baseball card bloggers I read and sometimes trade real cards with to be in the process of e-publishing their “dream” baseball cards now that we are in the middle of winter, and Spring Training seems so far away. I figured I’d toss one of my own out into cyberspace and see where it lands.

Keep in mind that this is a card that I WISH Topps or Upper Deck had/would produce, and against odds so astronomical they would make Carl Sagan’s head spin, I would somehow manage to pull this 1/1 card from a normal pack of baseball cards that I picked up at Target while standing in line to buy a bag of charcoal.

The irony that Topps would probably choose to portray one of the most colorful baseball players in the modern era in black and white isn’t lost on me. From a design standpoint, I think it “works.” Normally I would tend to steer as far away from a dark background as possible, but since this is a fantasy card, it would already be featuring a dual autograph in some beautiful copper-colored ink currently unknown to chemists at the Sharpie Corporation.

The choice of honoring Bill Lee was easy. There simply are not enough cards of the man who was pretty much kicked to the curb of major league baseball by the owners for his crime of being a free thinker. Sure, he was also a hell-raiser, but he wasn’t alone in that department. Including Warren Zevon on this card was also a no-brainer.

Lee was born some 27 days before Zevon. I’m sure Warren was aware of that fact, and was fine with it. After all, 2 + 7 = 9, and a nine is but three 3s, and Warren loved 3s as much as he embraced his OCD.

Both were living in California when Bill was drafted by the Boston Red Sox in 1968. Lee made his major league debut on June 25, 1969- the same summer Warren broke away from his gig with the Everly Brothers by releasing his first solo album “Wanted Dead or Alive,” and having one of his compositions, “She Quit Me,” featured in the Academy Award-winning film “Midnight Cowboy.”

I’m not sure when the two first became friends, but it isn’t difficult to imagine Lee sitting around the Fenway Park clubhouse completely hopped up on painkillers listening to Zevon’s self-titled album which hit the music stores just days after Bill suffered a career-altering shoulder separation during a Red Sox-Yankees brawl on May 26, 1976.

The controversial Spaceman wasn’t shy about quoting Zevon lyrics to reporters whenever a good opportunity presented itself. Warren returned the favor by including the song “Bill Lee” as the ninth track (again with the 3s?) on his 1980 album “Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School.”

The “relic” portion of this dream card doesn’t feature a ticket stub or a fragment of a baseball jersey. Instead, it contains a portion of the label from a bottle of Oban single malt scotch whisky to commemorate the day in the early 1980s when Lee stopped by Zevon’s for a visit. Warren was currently on the wagon, attempting to dry out in an effort to extend his marriage, his career and possibly even his life, but when Lee arrived he decided to have just “one drink” to welcome his friend. Legend has it that the two partied like madmen for THREE straight days.

Lee’s major league career ended after the Montreal Expos released him in May of 1982 and every other team refused to even take a look at him, having decided that he was too much to handle. Meanwhile, having survived a drinking binge that nearly finished him, Warren gave up drinking that same summer and remained sober until he was diagnosed with lung cancer at the end of 2002.

In an interview in May of 2001, Bill Lee stated that he and the Mutineer still kept in touch- “on an ESP level.” There is no reason to believe that the two excitable boys haven’t maintained their special relationship even since Warren’s death.

things to rent from netflix when you're dead

2008-01-10T04:43:00.000-07:00

I recently rented a film called “South of Heaven, West of Hell” after reading about Warren Zevon’s cameo appearance in his biography written by his ex-wife Crystal in 2007.

I was fortunate to have seen Warren in concert twice while he was alive, so there was no way I wasn’t going to watch this movie. The first time I saw Warren perform was January 9, 1996 in the Rockin’ Horse Saloon in Scottsdale, Arizona. It was a fantastic show. Every time Warren would finish a song, some jackass would yell “Werewolves of London!” Finally Warren said, “Look… I’m going to play it, but not now. If I play that song now, most of you will leave as soon as I’m done. So I’ll play it at the end of the show.” And he did. And nobody had left. And nobody seemed ready to leave even after they brought the house lights up. Well, I’m sure Warren was ready to leave, but he was probably the only one. Interestingly, that venue burned to the ground like the following week.

I caught Warren in concert again outside of Alice Cooperstown in Phoenix on April 1, 2000. (No fooling!) It was another amazing performance by the man with his guitar, a harmonica and a keyboard. Who needs a band?

While waiting for the movie to be delivered by the mail carrier, I settled in and read the 48 reviews submitted by various Netflickians- 29 of whom absolutely “hated” it. The vast majority of the rest didn’t care for it, and many probably didn’t watch it all of the way through. A few people claimed they loved it, but I suspect that they were probably trying to instigate some sort of cyber fistfight.

Pretty much the only item of value I got from the reviews was the knowledge that Paul Reubens also had a small role in the movie. Just think of that, Warren Zevon, Peter Fonda and Pee Wee Herman appearing on the silver screen together!

The movie was filmed in Arizona- appropriate, as it is a western set in the finals days of 1907. Warren only appears in the movie for a short time. He plays a character named Babcock who sticks pretty close to Billy Bob Thornton and has very little (if anything) to say. Paul Reubens plays a convincing cowthug named Arvid Henry. Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize him at first.

I wish I could tell you to rush out and rent this movie and that you’ll love it. But I can’t. Possibly it could have been better if it wasn’t written, cast, directed, edited and produced by Dwight Yoakam. But that would pretty much make it a different movie. Still, it is a far cry from what some folks have deemed the worst movie of all time. I could easily list twelve dozen worse films if I wanted to bother.

If you are a Zevon fan, you really should watch it. Same thing goes for Paul Reubens fans. If you aren’t fans of either of them but love Peter Fonda, just watch Easy Rider again.

Louisa S. (Lipscomb) Watson - Lettie's mother

2008-01-02T00:44:00.000-07:00

The continuing saga of researching Lettie Watson Mize...

Louisa S. (Lipscomb) Watson, the mother of Lettie W. (Watson) Mize, was born in 1845 on a farm in Jackson County, Missouri - the same year as Ellis Albert Swearengen (of HBO’s Deadwood fame).

Louisa was one of ten children resulting from the union of Joel Lipscomb and Henrietta Harris. Four of her siblings failed to reach adulthood. William S. Lipscomb, one of Louisa’s brothers, was a 2nd lieutenant of Company A, 6th Missouri infantry with the Confederate Army. He was killed at the Siege of Vicksburg, on June 25, 1863. Nathan Lipscomb, Louisa’s other brother that served in the Confederate Army, participated in and survived the same ordeal.

Louisa married Dr. John Ellis Watson at New Santa Fe, Missouri on November 1, 1871. I am working on the hunch that Lettie was the youngest of the three Watson children, following Dr. Frank Lipscomb Watson and sister Alma (Watson) Horton into the world.

Having already spent one lifetime at the eastern terminus of the Santa Fe Trail, presumably watching wagon train upon wagon train of settlers heading west into the great unknown, Louisa moved to Albuquerque in 1905 along with Lettie and Alma. I am interested to learn why exactly Louisa chose to relocate as a widow so far away from her friends and family, and to find out if any of her brothers or sisters also made the move. It appears that her son Frank did not make the journey west.

I assume that Louisa was the first owner of our house, but without a copy of the deed or any other documentation, that is pure speculation on my part. I have yet to uncover any evidence that Louisa was employed while living in Albuquerque, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest to learn that she was involved in education. Certainly she was greatly admired in the community as her passing away here at home was noted on the front page of the Albuquerque Journal on November 6, 1928.

Louisa’s obituary noted that she rarely missed a service at the Broadway Christian Church. It was reported that a severe illness left Louisa totally blind in 1923, but at the age of 78 retained enough desire and patience to learn how to read and write and to work with her hands. Not once did she complain of her physical handicap during the final five years of her life. An inspirational pioneer story if ever I’ve heard one!

I was confused when I initially discovered Louisa’s grave at Sunset Memorial Park since I had been under the impression that the cemetery didn’t even exist in 1928. Archival research provided an additional kink when it revealed that Louisa wasn’t buried there until the 1960s. Locating Louisa’s obituary helped clear up the mystery surrounding her final resting place somewhat as it stated that the interment was to be made in the Fairview Cemetery several miles to the south and east. It seems she wasn’t quite done moving after all.

kardiculture

2007-12-31T01:33:00.000-07:00

In direct conflict to the popular myth that began sweeping across America in the mid 1980s, I’m here to tell you that baseball cards do not grow on trees. I suppose one might attempt the argument that trees are a necessary step in their production, but with recycling and the amazing things engineers are doing with plastics these days, you’d probably have to invest several bottles of Busch beer as part of the discussion before you would even get me to listen.

Heck, Topps has even been recycling their baseball card designs for years, apparently having run out of fresh ideas. And I’m not complaining either. Personally, I like the idea of reusing old card designs with modern players on them. I think it is a wonderful tribute to the original design(ers), and has somehow managed to introduce an element of fresh air into the trading card industry- not completely dissimilar to aerating the outfield grass in a 100-year-old ballpark.

Someone sent me an article several years ago about a fellow who used to work for Topps. He went on about how people he met thought it would be an amazing score- landing a job with a baseball card company, let alone the granddaddy of them all. However, in (his) reality, it turned out to be just another job. I didn’t buy it when I read the article, and I’m not convinced now.

As long as I can remember, I’ve always thought it would be super to be the person who designs cards, or takes the photos of the players that end up on cards, or sits in meetings and lobbies for things such as the immediate discontinuation of including stick of crap chewing gum with the cards. Perhaps if I had moved to New York after high school, enrolled in an art school, and began applying for internships with Topps 25 years ago, I would have ended up working for them. But I didn’t. Besides, maybe robots perform all the work there now.

I do still have the dream of one day having one of my photographs used on a baseball card. And it isn’t unusual for me to spend several hours during a winter evening working on a new baseball card design while listening to old Gordon Lightfoot tunes. I’ll hash out a design and print a couple copies to get autographed in the spring and to add to my portfolio in the event that anyone (any minor league baseball club, for instance) would ever give me an opportunity to design their team set.

Generally, the only people who see my work are the players featured on the cards and a few of the autograph collectors. I’ve decided that it can’t hurt for me to put some of my ideas online in the event that the right person needing that sort of service might happen by and give me a shot. Worst case, someone decides to flatter me by stealing my ideas.

So here’s my work in progress for my dream team set for the 2008 Albuquerque Isotopes:

The key element in my design includes LOTS of white real estate for player autographs. Another thing I’m trying to do is create a desire for the card collector to really think of the set as a team set, as opposed to a stack of cards of guys simply wearing the same uniform- a rare concept in the modern age of free agency when players move about from team to team with the frequency of migratory workers. My intention is that the image of the baseball stadium in the background will serve to force people to assemble the “puzzle,” and possibly even make them come up with interesting ways of displaying the set once they get all of the cards autographed.

Once the team sets their roster at the end of Spring Training, I will be able to decide which players I want to include in the final version. Until then, all I can really do is tweak the layout and do some research to find a printer willing to run a few sets for me at a reasonable rate. Maybe I’ll have my resume printed on the backs of the cards, and ship sets off to Topps, Just Minors, Upper Deck and MultiAd. At the very least, they are unique.

Lettie Watson Mize: an introduction

2007-12-28T02:04:00.000-07:00

Way back when I used to do archaeology, one of the questions someone was always asking me was, “How do you know where to dig?” If I answered them honestly, I would reply, “If it was up to me, I sure as hell wouldn’t be digging here.” Of course an answer like that would require some explaining, and that would take time- something that was usually at least as precious as having enough water for the day while taking a pounding from the sun in the middle of the Sonoran desert.

The bottom line is that roughly 100 percent of every archaeological project I was ever paid to work on was driven by some pending construction project that had some level of governmental funding, and therefore required cultural resource studies to be completed. Ideally, those studies would be completed before the project got underway, but I think most of us here are adult enough to accept that we don’t live in a perfect world.

On the other hand, some of the “neatest” projects I ever worked on were done so on a volunteer basis. The kool thing about a volunteer project is that you are able to pick and choose the ones to invest your time and energies in. So if you think it sounds like a crackpot idea, not getting involved is always an option. Oddly enough, I can’t name a single historical project where I ever volunteered my help.

I guess that all changed for me when we bought our house in 2004 and I began wondering about the people who had lived here at different times over the past 100 years. Basic questions like “Who were they,” and “What sorts of things did they do?” Unfortunately, it seems that when you buy a house, a comprehensive listing of that sort thing isn’t included. Perhaps it should be. Then again, I quickly learned that the process of figuring out answers to my questions is as entertaining as it is challenging.

The initial challenge is deciding where, and how, to dig without a shovel. Armed with pencil, a notebook and the knowledge that our house was listed on the New Mexico State Register of Historic Places as the “Lettie Watson House,” I made my first of many walks to the historic records library. Once there, I set about going through all of the available* Albuquerque city directories published since 1904 and making a list of the names of people who lived in our house. (*Note: Not surprisingly, they don’t have city directories for every year, so my data was almost immediately compromised.) In addition to keeping track of the occupations of all the people who lived in the house, my database also included names and address for anyone named Watson or Mize (Lettie’s eventual married name) to possibly assist with my long range plan of finding living descendants who might be able to provide old photographs of the house or people who lived in it over the decades.

This undertaking was going to take a considerable amount of time and dedication in order to make any progress, not to mention ample portions of good luck. Eventually I had pieced together enough information that I started to think of my database as the exterior portion of a jigsaw puzzle. You know, the pieces with one straight edge. To be sure, there were still some missing pieces, including a couple of the corners, but at least I had some firm lines to build upon.

From that information alone I was able to figure out that Lettie had lived in our house “pretty much” all the time from 1906 or 1907 through the mid 1950s. Her mother, Louise Watson, had lived here “more or less” all the time that same period until she passed away right before the Great Depression. Lettie had married a meat cutter named Isaac Mize, who used to work across the street from the school where Lettie had been employed as a teacher. (Yes, part of my research includes walkabouts so I can make observations of the actual structures and properties in order to better visualize the physical environment rather than trying to imagine it in my brain that is already stuffed with numbers and names and such.) I also had determined that Lettie and Isaac had at least one child named Henrietta, but that was pretty much the end of that source.

Eventually, additional investigative work led to my discovery of Lettie’s gravesite in a cemetery just a few miles north of the house. Her mother had been buried on one side, her husband on the other. A thorough search of the surrounding area failed to reveal her daughter’s grave, and I chose to think of that as a good sign that she had either moved away, or was still living. The possibility that she had married and produced children was the best-case scenario.

Although you might suspect that finding someone’s headstone would be somewhat of a dead end, it is in reality quite the opposite for a historian. Those grave markers actually provided key information that I needed to push forward- dates of death. With that information, I was able to quickly locate appropriate obituaries by accessing copies of old newspapers on microfilm at the library. Without those dates, I wouldn’t even have attempted such a task.

There are some fantastic cemetery websites available to today’s historians. One that I am particularly fond of is called Find a Grave. I plan on supporting that site by adding the information I gather from this project, as well as posting photos I snap of random headstones. If I end up helping a single historian or genealogist on a future project even if by accident, then it is well worth the effort it takes to upload a few images.

It seems important to state that the discovery of these obituaries has led to the unearthing of a wealth of data about Lettie and her family. In turn, that information has set my research on a course that I had not anticipated. While I ponder what to do with the information, it makes sense for me to begin writing short biographies of the people involved- noting that these bios will require modification as additional information becomes available.

This blog seems an appropriate place as any to post them, and it seems only fitting to begin with what I’ve learned about Lettie. Assuming I fail to find a different voice to describe other people encountered in my research, they will be discussed based on their relationship to Lettie, or to the historic property itself.

Lettie W. (Watson) Mize

Lettie W. Watson was born on the westernmost edge of the United States on November 26, 1881 in New Santa Fe, Missouri. Today, only a small cemetery surrounded by a wrought iron fence remains of the town that once served as the virtual starting line for the Santa Fe Trail. Born ten years after her parents Dr. John Ellis Watson and Louisa S. Lipscomb were married, Lettie grew up with one sister, Alma Watson (Horton), and one brother, Dr. Frank L. Watson.

Following the death of Lettie's father, her mother packed up the house and moved to Albuquerque in 1905 with Lettie and Alma in tow. At present, there is no evidence to suggest that Frank moved to Albuquerque. It is reported that he was living in McAllister, Oklahoma in 1928. Louisa and Lettie became the first residents of the brand new house at 316 Walter Street sometime between 1906 and 1907. It is unclear whether or not Alma also lived here or elsewhere in the city.

By 1907, Lettie was employed as a teacher at the First Ward School. By 1911, she had taught at the Third and Second ward schools. Not long after that, she had married a butcher named Isaac Mize, and given birth to two children- Henrietta in 1913 and Wallace (date unknown- but I am working on it).

By the end of the 1920s, Lettie was employed as an “expression teacher,” a job I believe she performed here in the house. If you have any idea what an “expression teacher” did, please shoot me a comment. I am of the belief that she coached people in the art of public speaking or debate.

The last time I can confidently place Lettie in the house was 1955, but I suspect she remained in Albuquerque after she moved. A charter member of Monte Vista Christian Church, Lettie also served as a regent of the Lew Wallace Chapter of the National Society of the Daughter of the American Revolution.

Lettie passed away following a long illness at the age of 90 on July 8, 1972, exactly 33 years and one day after the death of her husband Isaac.

the gift of the junkie

2007-12-19T02:00:00.000-07:00

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it 660 times… that one of the, if not THE, coolest things about collecting baseball cards is the “trade.” Whether putting together the deal that ultimately adds a highly prized 1974 Cookie Rojas card to your collection, or finally obtaining that elusive card to complete a set you’ve been working on seemingly forever, it is all good fun! A satisfying trade never fails to transport me back in time to the Ray Bradbury moments of my youth- lazy, hot summer afternoons spent on the front porch of our house trading baseball cards with my buddies.

With that in mind, I am pleased to report that the final card I need to complete my base set of the 2007 Allen & Ginter cards is in the works as the result of the generosity of one of the more interesting baseball card bloggers- Cardboard Junkie! I dare say that if the Junkie’s kind-hearted gesture had been portrayed in a movie 100 years ago it would have been enough to make William Sydney Porter leave the theater early in search of a good bar.

I’ve been a fan of the Cardboard Junkie for quite a while now. It is one of the few blogs I check on a daily basis- if for no other reason that to see what “new” oddball cards he has obtained as part of his Allen & Ginter type set quest. I’d say that collecting cards that were originally printed and distributed in the late 1800s is a noble project- definitely for someone much braver than myself!

In honor of finishing the set, I think I should mention that my favorite card has to be no. 201 Freddy Sanchez.

In my opinion, this is clearly the best-looking card in the set, and in no way suggests that I am a huge Freddy Sanchez fan. I simply prefer the color, pose and card orientation over everything else in the set. Based solely on those criteria, runners up would be no. 204 Alex Gordon, no. 311 David Ross and no. 261 Torii Hunter- with a special nod going to card no. 239 author Fyodor Dostoevsky. The last one is total creepshow!

I don’t have the heart to ask the Junkie when he plans on picking up an original Allen & Ginter cigarette package to complete his monumental undertaking, but it should prove to be an interesting entry when he gets around to it.

Besides, I need to mind my own business and concentrate on completing the 2006 set, and there’s still that unfinished 1975 Topps set staring at me from across my office with an expression similar to that of a photo of a kid on the side of a milk carton.

used car salesmen

2007-12-11T03:37:00.000-07:00

Just when you were convinced that I was out of the comics business…

Pretty much the only thing you need to know about the conception of this idea is that when it “struck me,” it was WAY funnier than the turbulence we were experiencing at some 39,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean.

(Don't forget to click on the image!)

Also, now that I’m done and just looking at it, I have to say that the Ford salesman bears a striking resemblance to Bloom County’s Steve Dallas (unintentionally, of course). I wonder how much of the rest I stole from someone(s).

104,000 words on the topic of spain

2007-11-26T13:19:00.001-07:00

Assuming the global picture to word conversion rate remains constant… THIS LINK will provide approximately 104,000 words about Spain as I saw it.

eat at jose's

2007-11-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

I find it odd that the first question the majority of people have asked after learning that I went to Spain was, “What did you eat?” I guess nobody is interested in bullfighting? They could care less whether or not I met any members of the Spanish Olympic baseball team? (I did not.) And not a single reader is curious about the high-speed electric trains that carry passengers to all sorts of intriguing locations?

Fine. But please remember that I am neither a food nor restaurant critic. Keep in mind also that I do not play one on NPR.

Most importantly, I was unable to locate a source of Pop-tarts while I was in the Old World. Thus, I had to rely on the ones I transported across the Atlantic in my carry on luggage.

If you are considering making the voyage to Spain yourself, don’t fret- they have plenty of food. Small markets that dot the narrow streets of Madrid are a great way for people to pick up items needed on a daily basis such as fresh produce, meat, bread, nuts and whatnot. For every one of those markets, I would venture a guess that there exists at least nine Korean-owned/operated groceries that sell canned and packaged products such as pickles, chips, cookies, soda and alcohol. Oh yeah, and etc.

As if that isn’t enough, you also have the choice of tens of thousands of small restaurants, cafés and bars where service is noticeably fast. I found it interesting that although these places do not have jukeboxes, they do consistently have two slot machines just inside the front door and usually one blaring television. It was also an interesting experience to find myself back in a land where public smoking is not only an option, but pretty much seemed to be encouraged.

Most days, my breakfast consisted of a sandwich mixto (a grilled ham and cheese sandwich) and a Coke. Sometimes I would enjoy a sandwich mixto heuvo (pretty much the same thing with egg). Also receiving my five-K seal of approval was the toastada (toast with butter and jelly).

I really enjoyed looking at the photographs of these items that were used on the menus and plastered on the walls of the cafés across the city. I suppose the idea was to make ordering for people like me as simple as pointing. What made the photos most interesting to me was the awful color in the images where whites were represented by yellow, yellows were orange, oranges tended to appear somewhere between red and brown. Not always, mind you, but definitely more often than not. Very odd!

After strolling around the streets looking at art, people and buildings for several hours, it was time to eat again. Not in the mood for a big meal, the game plan was to pick out a table in a sunny area of an outdoor café and to settle in for a Coke and a look at another menu. Pleased with each discovery that Pepsi products were not available, I usually ended up ordering another sandwich mixto.

Practically every café/bar would provide Top-ums with drinks. These ranged from bowls of nuts, to plates of olives, bread or even crackers. Although the concept sounded appealing at first, my final thoughts on the platter of slices of cured ham, wedges of stinky cheese and hunks of dry bread is that it is a meal best served to survivalists.

One item that I particularly enjoyed was croquettes. Basically, these are fried balls of mashed potatoes with small chunks of meat inside. I did not like the ones that used fish, opting instead for the ones that were made with ham. It wasn’t until I stumbled across a piece of graffiti that I began to understand the sense of national pride Spaniards take in their croquettes. I believe this painting depicts the legendary “Croquette de Jaman.” I understand that parents recall tales of this unlikely superhero to children as they tuck them in for their afternoon siesta.

I did eat pizza in Madrid.

Compared to the heaping piles of food served everywhere here in the US, I was pleased by the appropriate amount of food served in Spain. I’m not sure if that is why I saw very few overweight people there, or if it because they tend to eat everything using tiny silverware. Nevertheless, the only exception to the serving-size rule I encountered was a bizarre combination of fried potato strips and chicken parts that most closely resembled some sort of failed science experiment. I would not complain about the taste, but I guess I wasn’t completely prepared for the impromptu study of how chickens can be butchered. Either way, less of that would have been better. Intriguing as I'm sure this dish must sound, I found myself unable to take a photograph of it.

I had some of this tortilla espana. It was mostly egg and cheese, with some potatoes and other items that I did not identify.

Finally, I offer this vegetable stew. No, I didn’t try this stuff, but I did get close enough to snap a photo.

Sitting on the runway prepared for takeoff for the 10-hour flight back to the states, I overheard the following conversation that forced me to put on my noise-reduction headphones earlier than I had planned.

Lady #1: “Would you like a piece of candy so your ears don’t pop?”

Lady #2: “No thanks. I’m too hungry to eat candy.”

three wise kards

2007-11-17T19:31:00.000-07:00

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always preferred to make greeting cards myself as opposed to buying them in a store. It just seems more personal.

Following the huge success of my bilingual Opus the penguin double-sided pop-up Christmas card in 1993, a number of people on my mailing list have inquired whether or not I would be interested in designing their holiday cards. Until now, I have resisted.

What follows then are three holiday-themed card designs that you can actually obtain and send to your friends, family and co-workers this year. If you DARE!

Feliz, Navidad

This card highlights my commitment to not learning a second language, while making readers wonder if I’ve even learned one. The town featured in the photo is actually Toledo, Spain.

Bah humbug

I designed this card with people who totally dislike the holiday season in mind. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I end up getting a couple of this style sent to my mailbox.

Tis the season

I actually really like this design. Simple, yet to and well beyond the point! While you don’t have to buy this card, you will have to click on the link above in order to obtain the punch line.

Of course it would be completely selfish of me to not take advantage of your attention and point you toward the cards I would probably purchase if I was going to send out cards made by other people. These Christmas Story cards are the best!

Happy shopping!

stranger in a stranger land

2007-11-11T23:06:00.000-07:00

I wondered what sorts of hobbies people had to keep themselves busy in Spain when it wasn’t bullfighting season. It turns out that “collecting” plays a huge part of the Spanish culture, and it is extremely popular here in the city center of Madrid.

Gathered together in patches of sunshine on Sundays, collectors show off their most recent acquisitions and barter to make deals that will make them king (or queen) for the next week.

This photo depicts rabid stamp collectors who have displaced the local pigeon population at Plaza Mayor for a few hours on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Stamps aren’t the only collectibles traded in these parts. Coins are big, as are soccer, Pokemon and Star Wars cards. Also being swapped were cigar bands, postcards, used phone cards, wine labels, old lottery tickets and comics. I didn’t notice anyone trading matchbooks, corks or bottles, but it is safe to assume that those items are collected here as well.

Not surprisingly, there was absolutely no interest in my duplicate Barry Bonds cards.

european WHERE?

2007-11-09T21:57:00.001-07:00

Possibly you are contemplating a trip to Europe before what’s left of the dollar slides completely over the edge of the North American continental shelf? In that case, perhaps I can give you a few tips as they become known to me. I’m pretty sure that I can avoid wasting your time with material that you would find repeated in various travel books.

Lesson Number A: Things Aren’t Always as they Appear

First, this is NOT a urinal…

However, this IS an ashtray…

And THIS is a car…

2007 Arizona Fall League

2007-11-09T10:15:00.000-07:00

Even before the final out of the 2007 season had been posted on the left field scoreboard at Isotopes Park, die-hard fans began processing possible post-season scenarios in their brains in an attempt to delay the inevitable arrival of the most fearsome of rivals- old man winter. With no post-season play on the horizon for the Albuquerque team, many fans accepted their fate of watching the reminder of the major league season from the comfort of their recliners. A few fans began using hand-held electronic data machines to consult home schedules of major league teams and accessing online banking accounts to determine whether or not they were actually going to be forced to call it a season just yet. Only the Pisceans and other dreamers rolled out star charts and began weighing their chances of obtaining major league division, league or (gulp) World Series tickets.

Another option would be to swallow a heaping spoonful of pride and travel to the cities involved in the minor league playoffs and championship. Besides proving to be a rather bitter pill to choke down, that experience would also prove rather costly.

Perhaps the best cure for minor league post-season blues is the Arizona Fall League. The AFL is the annual magical gathering of top prospects for six additional weeks of practice and organized games under the watchful eye of some of the finest coaches ever to have played the game of baseball. Six teams comprise the league- currently marking its 16th year in operation. The games are played mostly in front of a large group of scouts, former players, family members and autograph collectors. At only $6 per person for admission, you would be hard pressed to find a better bargain for your money in the sporting world.

Players from the Florida Marlins joined players associated with the Dodgers, Padres, Phillies and Tigers forming the Peoria Saguaros. In addition to practicing and playing games at the Peoria Sports Complex, the Saguaros are bussed around the Valley of the Sun to other Spring Training facilities where they take on teams including the Phoenix Desert Dogs, Scottsdale Scorpions, Mesa Solar Sox, Surprise Rafters and Peoria Rafters. Each of the AFL teams also play games against Olympic teams for the United States and China.

The 2007 Saguaros roster included three Isotopes pitchers- Craig Molldrem, Ricky Nolasco and Ross Wolf, as well as pitching coach Rich Gale. Other players from the Marlins organization participating in the Fall League include Chris Coghlan, Brett Hayes, Jai Miller and Scott Nestor.

Second baseman Chris Coghlan hit for an average of .287 over 115 games combined with the Greensboro Grasshoppers (A) and Jupiter Hammerheads (A) this past season. Coghlan swatted a dozen round-trippers, scoring 77 times and driving in 82 runs. Collecting 31 doubles as part of his 125 hits on the season, Chris also ended up swiping 24 bases out of 29 attempts.

Thru 13 games during the 2007 AFL season, Coghlan has accumulated 15 hits and maintained a .313 batting average. Yet to homer in Arizona, Chris has hit three doubles. He also has been caught steeling in each of his three attempts.

Catcher Brett Hayes played in 91 games in 2007 with the Jupiter Hammerheads (A) and the Carolina Mudcats (AA). Hayes compiled .254 batting average, scored 32 runs and drove in 42. More than one-quarter of his hits fell for extra bases.

Hayes’ Fall League average thru 14 games has dipped to .224, with 6 runs scored and only 2 driven in. However, Brett appears to work very hard behind the plate, and isn’t shy when it comes to flashing the leather, or keeping base runners honest. I have no doubt that Brett will soon be winning over the hearts of many Isotopes fans.

Outfielder Jai Miller’s first name is Randall, but this article might be one of the few places you’ll ever see it used. The right-hand hitting outfielder finished the 2007 season batting .261 over 129 games with the Carolina Mudcats (AA). Miller’s 106 hits included 26 doubles, 2 triples and 14 homers. Jai nearly drew as many walks (55) as RBIs (58). Miller stole a dozen bases while getting caught five times.

Thru 18 Fall League games, Miller’s average has hovered right around .264 while collecting 19 hits including 3 doubles, a triple, and one round-tripper. His 24 strikeouts in 72 at bats are obviously something to keep an eye on. Barring some blockbuster moves by Florida during the winter, I expect to see Miller playing right field in Albuquerque in 2008, with Brett Carroll in left, and Alejandro De Aza patrolling center.

Unless De Aza has another outstanding spring, it seems unlikely that his 2007 production of a .261 average, 14 runs scored, and 8 batted in will prove enough to land him a starting position in Florida’s outfield. De Aza’s 2 stolen bases in 2007 compared to 27 steals in 2006 while batting .278 for the Carolina Mudcats suggests that the Marlins need to figure out a way for the youngster to get some at bats on a consistent basis. Albuquerque seems as good as any place for that to happen- perhaps the best.

Due to his veteran status, the Marlins had to obtain special permission from MLB in order for Ricky Nolasco to participate in the Arizona Fall League. After missing the majority of the 2007 season following elbow problems, Nolasco did toss 33.2 innings in the minors- compiling a record of 1-4 with a 7.49 ERA, and 21.1 innings for the Marlins where he went 1-2 with a 5.48 ERA.

Possibly beginning to turn the corner in his recovery, Nolasco has a 3.78 ERA over 16.2 innings pitched in 5 AFL games what is generally considered to be a hitter’s league. I would be surprised to see Ricky in an Isotopes uniform in 2008.

Also pitching for the Peoria Saguaros this fall is right-handed reliever Craig Molldrem. Having spent the majority of his season with the Carolina Mudcats (AA), Molldrem finished the 2007 season with a record of 5-4 and a 4.61 ERA.

In seven Fall League appearances, Molldrem has been saddled with a 15.75 ERA. The five long balls Craig has allowed in only 8 innings are just two shy of his total allowed over 70.1 innings during the regular season. Hopefully, his work with Rich Gale during the Fall League will pay dividends in 2008.

I had never seen right-handed reliever Scott Nestor pitch before since he spent the entire 2007 season with the Carolina Mudcats. Due to the way things worked out while I was in Phoenix, I still haven’t. The fact that the Marlins selected Nestor for the Fall League suggests that they believe he will only improve on this season’s numbers; 2-4 with a 4.44 ERA, and 86 strikeouts vs. 41 walks in 75.0 innings.

Thru 8.1 innings over 7 games this fall, Nestor’s ERA is at 4.32 with 10 strikeouts and 4 bases on balls. I would anticipate seeing Nestor on the Isotopes team when they break from Spring Training.

Right-handed reliever Ross Wolf spent a couple of weeks in the Fall League following his second call up to the parent club during 2007. However, Wolf only pitched a single inning, and yielded two runs (one earned) on two hits before the Marlins made the decision to shut him down for the winter. I talked to Ross briefly before he headed to Florida for an MRI on his shoulder that he described as a precautionary measure. Wolf did log a total of 59.2 innings over 59 games for Albuquerque and Florida during the regular season, so some time off probably wasn’t unwarranted.

The Arizona Fall League… where some of the questions about next season are answered today!

never been to spain

2007-11-07T23:07:00.000-07:00

You may now safely add that song to the list of Three Dog Night tunes that you’ll probably never again catch me whistling with any authority. You may thank Iberian Airlines for that favor.

There is no need to refresh your computer in disbelief- I’m actually in Europe. The deal is that my wife lived here once for a year after college, and has since wanted to return on vacation before she turned 35. Thus, here we are. Since I honestly don’t deserve a vacation after spending the entire summer “working” at the ballpark, catching a week of fall ball in Phoenix, then popping up to Denver to catch a World Series game, this trip is intended to serve as a “Cultural Unit” in my continued home schooling experience.

What was my honest first impression upon landing at the airport here in Madrid? Jesus, am I ever thankful to be off that airplane!

The next thing that stuck in my mind was a children’s “ride”/photo booth on the airport concourse in the shape of a tiny fiberglass biplane. I was intrigued by the fact that the ride had buttons that could be pushed to create simulated sounds of machine gun fire and dropping bombs… in an AIRPORT! For crying outloud… am I the only person who remembers “three-one-one?”

My third impression as we rode into the city center was how eerily beautiful this enormous cemetery was laid out along a hillside, before being peppered with headstones and aboveground crypts. I don’t know if we will have time to visit that place before we leave. Even if we did, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have “enough” time to offer it the thorough inspection it deserves.

My already odd sleep pattern has been completely thrown out of whack by the traveling. For instance, I just woke up at 5:00 am local time. Like, huh?

I’d been having one of the strangest dreams, so I’ll probably be better off awake for a while. In the dream I was sitting in a small café minding my own business when Weird Al Yankovic approached me and asked if I wanted to help him write a spoof song. Actually, he called it a parody, but I’ll leave that up to you to decide.

He mentioned that he was feeling down, and that he could only find joy by collaborating on a song with a random Spaniard. I offered that I was not a Spaniard, but instead from Albuquerque. Pausing for a moment to sniff the air and taste it with what appeared to be a slightly forked tongue, Weird replied, “That explains the smell of root beer.” Following a moment of silence punctuated by an accordion rim shot, he added, “Old Spain, New Spain… what’s the difference?” In the real world, I could have listed at least seven, but unsure whether he was in my dream or I was in his, my mind drew a blank.

Given Al’s great depression, I recommended that we retool Yip Harburg’s 1931 classic “Brother Can You Spare a Dime?” Either he though it a great idea, or he didn’t care enough to argue. For the title, we settled on, “”Buddy Can You Spare a Euro?”

Now that I’m awake, I find that I am unable to recall the majority of the lyrics that we had hashed out. I assure you that we had a fantastic time, and Weird was all smiles- even when the bartender would carve off slices of Al’s hair and serve it to customers as top’ums with their beer. These are the only lyrics that I remember:

Once I wrote a blog. I wrote it well, constructed it with rhymes.
Once I wrote a blog, it was swell. Buddy can you spare eighteen dimes?

Overall, I would not hesitate to rate the dream at least an 8. After all, at least I didn’t dream about standing at the baggage claim carousel counting suitcases.

writer's strike

2007-11-05T12:21:00.000-07:00

Fear not! The ongoing Writers Guild of America's strike will not impact the frequency of entries on this here blog.

New Mexico Highways

2007-11-02T03:09:00.000-06:00

Raise your hand if you’ve never had the pleasure of having been driving home from a World Series Game 3 in Denver and opted to take my patented “Eastern Santa Fe Bypass” (ie., NM Route 84 from Romeroville, New Mexico to Interstate 40- a shortish distance east of Clines Corners). Those of you with your hand up do not realize what you’ve been missing.

When you do finally get around to exploring this little segment of the desert Southwest, I highly recommend doing so just prior to the sun begins to call it a day. Also, do yourself a huge favor and pop Supertramp’s “Breakfast In America” into your handy mp3 gadget, cd changer, cassette player, 8-track stereo, or whatever have you right as you begin heading southward along this sparsely populated, yet entertaining travel corridor. Crank it up and enjoy!

Sure, the album is pushing 30 years old, but it is still quite space age music for the seldom-traveled, pre-1937 alignment of Route 66. The only other suggestions I have to offer is that if you hear any part of the saxy Logical Song before you reach the tiny village of Apache Springs, you really need to ease off on the gas pedal- not because of cops, but in order to fully enjoy what you are otherwise going to miss.

Hey, put your hand down already! Geeesh.

Similarly, you don’t want to drive so slowly that you can’t take advantage of the energy of Child of Vision as you ramp back up and engage with the flow of traffic on I-40. Obviously you should be musically prepared in the event that you decide to stray off and explore a few of the back roads that crisscross the southern foothills of the Santa Fe Mountains.

writing's on the wall

2007-09-24T01:10:00.002-06:00

If you are reading this, then like me, you have survived the 2007 New Mexico state fair. Either that, or you missed it completely. Dry those tears if that is the case. I didn’t even see a hint of a giant butter sculpture, so you really didn’t miss anything.

The vast majority of what I did see of the fair was out of the corner of my eye while perched in the crow’s nest at the end of the home stretch at the racetrack. I am of the opinion that the races are a big part of many people’s annual Fair experience.

A few readers have inquired about what exactly I have to do at the Downs. Basically, I shoot video of the horses and jockeys during the post parade- a ten-minute period leading up to each race where fans in attendance and those huddled together in smoke-filled off-track betting parlors around the world can make last minute decisions on specific horses, and tweak their wagering strategy as needed. I also shoot the entire race from starting gate to finish line, and that video becomes part of the official race record along with the feed from normally four additional cameras from different locations.

That part of the day passes extremely fast! Then there is a period of approximately 10 to 15 minutes between each race where I am not required to shoot anything. I don’t waste that time watching tv, reading or even blogging- although I could. Instead, I utilize that down time reviewing the results of the previous race on paper- you know, looking for patterns on why I failed to select the winning horses. Sure, I could think of reasons to blame the jockeys for failing to urge the “better” horse along quicker, but that really wouldn’t help me on future races. I also take advantage of the time and read the next day’s racing form and picking the ponies that when my personal handicapping biases are applied, literally “stand out” from the rest of the field in much the same way as those 3D posters work.

Usually I run out of things to “do” by the end of the 7th race, and am forced to entertain myself between races. I admit that I enjoy reading the graffiti on the walls of my 10-foot-square corrugated tin shack in the sky. At first glance, I assumed the scrawling represented the documentation of a person gone mad, not unlike what one might expect to find of the walls of a dimly lit prison cell wherein a lifer’s only companion was a black Sharpie. I realize that the writings may not “mean” anything, but that doesn’t prevent the anthropologist in me from attempting to categorize the various phrases. That said, I have developed the following four categories:

Anger Management:
A few examples of scribblings included in this category would be “Murder & Rose’s,” “ 99 Ways to Die” and “Testament (All Lies).” It is worth noting that there are several areas in the walls where a sharp object has been jabbed through the tin. I can’t imagine anyone thinking they weren’t getting enough air to breathe, so I am left assuming they were simply practicing handling a blade when they weren’t working on their penmanship.

Race Horse Names:
Tell me you wouldn’t be tempted to include one or more of these in your next superfecta wager- “Highway Jones,” “Frog Stomp,” “Sweet Life,” “Mama’s Fool” or “Drive it Home.” Personally, I wouldn’t hesitate to lay $2 on “Right to Cheese” across the board!

Band Names:
Sure, “Garden Groove,” “Bong Hits” and “Spitting Clam’s” could all be names of horses, but I just like the idea of a bunch of Albuquerque kids hanging out in a garage playing covers of Kiss tunes and arguing what they should call themselves. Eventually, of course, the band would break up citing artistic differences as the root of the problems, and the lead guitarist would be forced into seeking a summer job (perhaps operating a video camera at the racetrack).

Other:

klimbing that ladder

2007-09-18T02:14:00.001-06:00

Don’t worry; I didn’t land a fancy corporate job or anything like that!

However, my plan to spend the down time between the end of baseball and the beginning of hockey kicking around at the racetrack took a twist this past weekend when I wormed my way into one of the video crew positions at the Downs at Albuquerque.

A perfect excuse to spend every day at the racetrack, and earn a little cash while learning more about the fascinating world of horse racing and betting on the ponies!

Without a doubt, the most challenging aspect of my new job is getting to work, even though the track is located only a few miles from home. Actually, the last 50 feet of my commute are the most difficult I’ve had to overcome given that they are literally straight up! Trust me, it is a true white-knuckle experience.

However, once I arrive at my perch, the view from my “desk” is pretty amazing.

Here's a view of the New Mexico State Fair which wraps up this Sunday.

I could keep typing, but I need to save my fingers for clinging onto the ladder through the end of the live racing season in early October.

bob and tom and MY DAD?

2007-08-28T16:56:00.000-06:00

If you took the time to look around my father’s office, you might walk away with the impression that he never met a slingshot that he didn’t like. That isn’t true, but the fact that a slingshot is poorly made or simply doesn’t perform well has yet to prevent him from buying a newly discovered species.

To be sure, his collection has resulted in moments of local, national, and even international fame. Probably if anyone was keeping track, they would determine that he has used up his allotted fifteen minutes already.

That said, he does keep showing up in the most unusual places. Take, for instance, this recent mention on Bob and Tom’s website. Scroll down after clicking on the link… you can’t miss it. And just maybe you shouldn’t!

field of refried dreams

2007-08-28T03:17:00.001-06:00

I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the full lunar eclipse this evening, but clouds have moved in and are making it next to impossible to enjoy the event. Hopefully they will clear out in the next hour or so.

In the meanwhile, I thought I’d post a few photographs I took way back on August 6th when Kevin Costner participated in batting practice with the Albuquerque Isotopes prior to a game with the Colorado Springs Sky Sox.

It was really a very neat experience, being on the field when this was going on. I was unable to determine who was having more fun... the players or Kevin.

This photo depicts Kevin chatting with outfielder Eric Reed next to the batting cage. Kevin borrowed Eric's bat when it was his turn in the cage. He didn't "Bop the Bunny," but he did do a fine job of hitting- even when manager Dean Treanor cranked up the speed.

barney googled

2007-05-31T03:43:00.001-06:00

So I’m sitting in the public library the other afternoon reading old newspapers on microfilm trying to answer my newfound question of whether comic strips might tend to be funnier during war times. It wasn’t long before I convinced myself that I really needed to follow through with a few ideas I’ve had for comics- if for no other reason than to clear the space they are cluttering in my mind.

What follows then is my first offering, which is basically a conceptual prototype. Please remember to click on the image in order to see it in full size. (No, that won’t make it funnier, but it should make it legible.)

To answer the question that one of my readers (a psychic professor) is preparing to ask, the comics included in the Albuquerque Journal on Sunday, March 14, 1943 included the following: Bringing Up Father; The Heart of Juliet Jones; The Lone Ranger; Right Around Home with Myrtle – A Dignified Position!; Ripley’s ~ Believe It or Not; Donald Duck; Blondie; Dennis the Menace; Dick Tracy; Prince Valient; Walt Disney Presents Uncle Remus and his Tales of Brer Rabbit; Mickey Mouse; Henry; Barney Google and Snuffy Smith; Buz Sawyer; They’ll Do It Every Time; The Little King; Archie; Little Annie Rooney; The Katzenjammer Kids; Little Iodine; Thimble Theater starring Popeye; Flash Gordon; Steve Canyon.

Interestingly, the funnies then came in two separate sections as an addition to the 15-cent Sunday paper (along with the ever popular Parade magazine).

Oh yeah…. were they “funny?”

Well, I suppose that is a matter of opinion- except Henry. Mimes are ALWAYS funny!

goats head stew

2007-05-23T03:44:00.001-06:00

Until you’ve stepped on a goathead, you’ve never really experienced agony of da feet. However, if you’ve spent any amount of time in the American southwest, odds are that you’ve stepped on one of these seedpods from hell barefoot, or had one jab you through your shoe, punctured a bicycle tire, or had the misfortune of having gotten one stuck under your fingernail.

Also commonly called Texas Sandburs, bull’s head and caltrop, goatheads are the product of the Puncturevine (or Tribulus terrestris L. for all you braniac Latinheads). First reported in the United States just over 100 years ago, it is believed that the seedpods of the puncturevine were transported from the Mediterranean area as stowaways in imported sheep wool. Stranger things have happened.

This weed is extremely dangerous to livestock, but that really doesn’t impact my garden since the only critters I have in any large number this spring are grasshoppers. Eliminating puncturevines from my yard has been the highest priority since I began working my small urban plot a couple/few years ago. These weeds are so annoying, that I also watch for them on both sides of the alley as they approach my zone of defense. I will drop any task I am doing to grab a puncturevine by the taproot and either toss it into a fire, or into the trashcan. Believe it or not, I am of the opinion that one would find worse things in the city landfill than these monsters.

As I prepared to snap these photographs, I began wondering if perhaps my hatred of these weeds was unique or somehow “over-the-top”- given the fact that I see them all over the city and no one seems to be trying to do anything about them. Imagine my surprise while conducting a little interweb research, to discover someone who hates goatheads as much as I do! Such an informative website, and I admit that I am intrigued by this idea of their Puncturevine Weevils.

The notion that these nasty seeds can remain viable for up to two decades while lying in wait for the proper conditions to germinate is baffling to say the least. Although I do believe I can control the weeds in my yard by staying on top of it, deploying a small army of seed and vine munching grubs in the alley might prove a worthy battle plan- assuming, of course, that the larvae do not mutate into strawberry eating weevils. Unfortunately, the high price of the weevils may force me to approach the board of our neighborhood association to see if they will provide some funds.

As an interesting digression, I’ve also learned that “Waiting on a Friend,” one of my favorite Rolling Stones songs that appeared on the Tattoo You album in the early 80s, was in fact, an outtake from the Goats Head Soup album that was released in 1973- on the 70th anniversary of the first reported finding of the puncturevine in the United States. Who knows… perhaps the “friend” Mick and the boys were waiting on was a puncturevine weevil.

missed it by that much

2007-05-05T12:57:00.000-06:00

I saw a number of interesting items and places while traveling along the road back to Albuquerque upon the conclusion of the recent Midland excursion. One of the themes that repeatedly crossed my mind was how much the landscape and the small towns I passed through reminded me of the beginning of one of my favorite films- Midnight Cowboy.

Once I got home, watching the film again became a priority. When I observed the signage in the opening that indicated Joe Buck (Jon Voight’s character) was living Big Spring, Texas before heading off for the greener pastures of New York City, I recalled the portion of a discussion with the owner of Cloud 9 Sports Cards in Odessa just three days ago when he mentioned Big Spring in passing. A quick Google search revealed that Big Spring is located just about 40 miles northeast of Midland. Nertz! I’m kind of bummed that I failed to realize that I was so close.

I could very easily have been trying to find the location of the Sahara Drive-In (renamed “Big Tex Drive-In” for the opening scene of the film) in Big Spring instead of snapping photos of the modern Big Sky Drive-In located between Midland and Odessa. Triple darn that I failed to have a slice of pie in the diner where Joe Buck once worked as a dishwasher before walking out carrying only his dream and cowhide suitcase.

Rest assured, next time I find myself in Midland for baseball, I will definitely make the side trip over to Big Spring and take several dozen photos of the “downtown” area and anything that is left of the drive-in theater.

One blogworthy site I did see for the first time was a fun Buddy Holly statue in the heart of Lubbock’s Walk of Fame. I was also very impressed with Lubbock’s brick-paved streets that have survived for close to 90 years.

Also just a few miles off the route one encounters the reported gravesite of outlaw Billy the Kid. This location is as interesting as it is controversial.

midland, texas... it's a gas!

2007-05-04T01:15:00.000-06:00

Greetings from Midland, Texas!

According to popular legend, Midland’s name is a derivation of “Midway,” the original name given to the point located approximately half the distance between El Paso and Fort Worth as the iron horse flew. Legend continues that “Midland” was adopted as the town name not long after the discovery was made of a number of other small Texas towns named Midway. Undoubtedly, that resulted in some very confusing days for the Pony Express riders before it all got sorted out.

Does that answer your question of what I’m doing in Midland? No it does not.

Am I here to visit what is reported to be the childhood home of the 43rd President of the United States? Hardly, but since I’m already here...

Baseball is what brings me to this part of the country- specifically, Double A baseball. After a couple of seasons of a buddy telling me how enjoyable ballgames are here in Midland, I decided to accept his offer to take a road trip over to check it out.

My first impression is that Citibank Ballpark is a very nice facility. The fans that turn out to support the Midland RockHounds, are typical, if not fewer in number that what I would have expected. It is now my understanding that that majority of the quarter-million people in this area are most likely too busy sitting at home watching Friday Night Lights on tv and getting pumped up for the high school football season than to be bothered to head out to enjoy a baseball game.

It is reported that Midland receives approximately 14.8 inches of precipitation each year. Personal experience suggests that the vast majority of that amount arrives in the form of a single thunderstorm in the late morning/early afternoon hours each May 2nd. Thankfully the field at Citibank Ballpark drains quickly!

A quick glance around reveals very little in the way of scenery beyond a forest of mesquite and a never-ending sea of oil derelicts and pumpjacks. Although I’m in no position to write a travel brochure for the city, it is worth noting to my “Hollywood” readers that Midland’s seemingly abandoned business district would provide a prime location for the long overdue remake of Omega Man.

The Midland RockHounds defeated the Corpus Christi Hooks in each of the three games I attended. The overall production was eerily similar to the Isotopes games in spite of the differences. It was very pleasant to attend a few games as a fan, collect a handful of Texas League baseballs during batting practice and get several baseball cards autographed. I would definitely recommend that anyone passing through the area schedule an evening to take in a ballgame here in the Permian Basin.

bill lee

2007-04-26T02:27:00.000-06:00

Yes, this is same fella Warren Zevon recorded a song about.

I really don’t write letters to current or former baseball players and ask them for an autograph. However, after recently reading Bill Lee’s The Wrong Stuff and watching “Spaceman: A Baseball Odyssey,” the documentary about Bill and his trips to Cuba to play baseball, I decided it would be a shame to not have one of his cards autographed in my collection.

So I sent Bill a letter along with one of my Archaeology Rocks t-shirts, and asked him to sign his card from the 1972 Topps set. Several weeks later, he sent it back… signed beautifully with a blue Sharpie.

Even if you don’t happen to follow baseball, Bill Lee is a person worthy of your attention. The fact that the “Spaceman” includes “EARTH” in his signature should be enough to make you want to Google him and find out what that is all about. There are so many interesting things about this man that I wouldn’t even attempt to summarize his character in a blog entry.

You’ll have to excuse me now so I can begin reading Have Glove Will Travel.

one man's trash...

2007-04-18T02:33:00.000-06:00

... is another man’s dollhouse.

Whether you live in a large city or the smallest of towns, you can always bank on discovering the strangest things while walking through alleys. I guess it boils down to the notion that people invest the majority of their yard beautification efforts towards the front of their homes, and neglect the backsides under the theory that no one will see it. Possibly that also indicates that most people are oblivious to what alleys have to offer beyond serving as a path to their garage, or the rare shortcut. Many people also tend to employ “their” alley as an extension of their world.

I think I’ve always been a sort of alley investigator, although I definitely prefer to explore them on foot rather than by car. First, I tend to miss the finer details when traveling at say, 35 miles an hour compared to 2 or even 3 miles per hour. Also, vehicles pretty much remove any possibility of stealth from the operation, whereas on foot a person may only attract the attention of the occasional family dog, or an entire block of family dogs if you have unusually large feet, or haven’t learned how to pick them up when you walk.

I recently encountered this relatively creepy item while on walkabout in search of interesting items to photograph. It was stashed in the alley behind a large house in Albuquerque’s historic Huning Highland Addition that was featured prominently in the nightmarish film “Suspect Zero.”

I was immediately captivated by the amount of effort that appeared to go into the construction of the house to make it look old and run down. Then I realized that it probably wasn’t so much the effort that went into the creation it inasmuch as it was just sloppily constructed and then more than likely left outside in the elements for any number of years. When I reached down to move the house into light more suitable for photography, I was impressed the object’s weight. I was particularly fond of the yellow room upstairs.

Upon reaching the conclusion that the toy wasn’t a scale model of the property’s actual house, I realized that it was time to continue with my exploration. Although I didn’t feel any urges to save the item from an eventual trip to the dump, I couldn’t help but wonder if there is an interesting story surrounding this house.

old red mare

2007-04-16T02:55:00.000-06:00

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. and I had an understanding. He would write fabulous books, and I would read them. Otherwise, we left each other alone. This is how it always was. This is how it should always have continued to be. Unfortunately, Time and Nature conspired to rain on that parade.

Now that I’m positive Kurt isn’t reading my blog (at least my blog isn’t getting any hits from IP addresses from Tralfamadore), I can write about topics that I otherwise may not have- such as the odometer reading in my pickup truck.

As trivial as it may be, my truck reached a milestone on the same day that Mr. Vonnegut passed away, by hitting the 100,000-mile mark. I remember when I was a kid the day our family car (I think it was a 1965 Chevy Impala) was going to “roll over,” and I thought it was going to literally flip off to the side of the road. It didn’t. I also remember my eyes being glued to the odometer as the dials changed for the next four miles. Then I sorta lost interest as we neared the Spoon River bridge.

When I purchased my Ford Ranger on August 20, 1995, I did so because I was pumping so much money into keeping my Dodge Daytona running that I figured I might as well be making payments on a new vehicle. It was the first brand new vehicle I had ever purchased, so it was a pretty big deal. Obviously I had no idea how long the truck would last, and quite honestly, I didn’t think much about it either. I was just happy to have a reliable means of tooling around Phoenix and the greater southwest.

Fast forward nearly a dozen years and an estimated 35 oil changes, the milestone was reached just west of the San Mateo overpass while traveling east on Interstate 40 through the heart of Albuquerque. If you must know, Aretha Franklin’s “Spanish Harlem” was flowing from the factory radio and speakers.

Overall, it has been a very good truck. The truck’s 13th windshield (that has been cracked now for a couple of years) stands testament to the fact that I no longer attempt to fight the fact that the vehicle is a magnet for flying gravel. The truck definitely has a unique personality, and features strange behavior such as the windshield wipers turning themselves on randomly, it hates to be washed, and similar to the driver, the radio receiver doesn’t “get” NPR.

It is possible that these items may be attributed to spiritual remnants attached to the human remains and associated grave items that were transferred in the cab from archaeological excavation sites around Arizona to various laboratories. Certainly there is no indication that Henry Ford’s ghost has been hitching a ride.

opening day 2007

2007-04-02T00:22:00.000-06:00

Best day of the year? Why that would be Opening Day of course! How’d you celebrate the occasion this year?

I spent the afternoon soaking up rays and suds at Isotopes Park watching a ballgame between the visiting San Diego State Aztecs and the University of New Mexico Lobos. Normally, I steer clear of college baseball, but not when a team is managed by the likes of Tony Gwynn.

Recently elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, Gwynn is quite happy to sign autographs for anyone who asks nicely with a “please,” and adds a sincere “thank you.”

After Tony walked around the dugout showing this card and saying, “This is my motorcycle,” I asked him how the bike was doing. He replied that it was "sitting in the garage collecting dust." It is nice to be reminded that even Hall of Fame ballplayers are regular people (sort of).

boxer hill

2007-03-13T04:07:00.000-06:00

While conducting my ongoing historical baseball research project, I recently ran across this interesting item in the October 27, 1888 edition of Albuquerque’s Morning Democrat.

Perhaps “interesting” is misleading in that this particular item would be meaningful to only a small handful of people who would find the overall topic, well…. interesting. While I had already discovered documentation that a few of the ball players included in my research were from Bloomington, Illinois, the thought never entered my mind that any of my research subjects would have been born only a few miles from the tiny town where I grew up and traded baseball cards with my buddies before little league practice.

Having little information besides the infielders’ last name to go on, I fired off a couple of emails hoping to catch a break. Larry Lock, President of the Kewanee Historical Society, provided me with the first name of “Beldon,” and the following from the October 25, 1888 edition of the Kewanee Weekly Independent.

“ ‘Beldie’ Hill returned from the south-west last Saturday. He has for several months past been playing ball with the team of Santa Fe, and has made for himself an enviable reputation by his fine work both in the diamond and with the bat.”

It is amazing what having a person’s first name can do for a researcher, even if there is an issue with spelling. With that important clue in hand, I was able to locate the following information with a few simple Google searches.

Belden L. Hill was born on August 24, 1864 in Kewanee, Illinois. Hill got his only taste in the big leagues in 1890 just three days after his 26th birthday playing third base for the Baltimore Orioles. Hill’s final major league appearance occurred on September 4th that same year.

The 5’10” right-handed infielder played in only 9 games, hitting safely 5 times in 30 at bats including a pair of doubles and a trio of runs scored. “Beldie” swiped six bases and was hit by the pitcher three times. Playing the hot corner, Belden committed 7 errors in 49 total chances, resulting in a lackluster fielding percentage of .857.

In 1896, the Cedar Rabbits (professional baseball club of Cedar Rapids, Iowa) began playing in a brand new ballpark named Hill Park in honor of Belden Hill, then a cigar wholesaler and investor in the team. Hill took over as manager of the team in 1897 and led the Rabbits in their quest to capture the Western Association title with an impressive record of 84-41. Cedar Rapids joined the Three-I (Illinois-Indiana-Iowa) League in 1901 and immediately dominated the competition. Hill retired as manager of the Cedar Rapids club (then nicknamed the Bunnies) following the 1908 season.

Although no longer serving as the team’s skipper, Hill was obviously still heavily involved with the club as it is reported that he failed to sign future major leaguer Edmund “Bing” Miller to a minor league contract in 1911 with his offer of $70 per month. Miller would eventually spend 16 seasons in the majors, and appeared in three consecutive World Series (1929-1931) with the Philadelphia Athletics.

Kewanee Historical Society archives note that Belden’s brother Hugh, a prominent pharmacist and sports enthusiast, was president of the Kewanee Boilermakers, a team in the class D minor league Central Association from 1908 to 1911. Unfortunately, Cedar Rapids failed to organize professional baseball clubs during that period. While it is pretty clear that Belden didn’t lead a team against Kewanee, I wonder if he had anything at all to do with the Boilermakers (either in person or financially). Belden Hill came out of retirement to manage the Cedar Rapid Bunnies to sixth and forth place finishes in the Central Association in 1913 and 1914.

Belden Hill passed away on October 22, 1934, and is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

The Cedar Rapids baseball club sold Hill Park to the Cedar Rapids Community School District for $9,000. The ballpark was razed in the late 1940s.

………..

Fifteen bonus points to anyone who can name another person from Kewanee, Illinois to have had AT LEAST one at-bat in Major League Baseball.

walterwood

2007-03-06T00:48:00.000-07:00

Just when I was beginning to think that people might be growing tired of seeing our neighborhood on the silver screen, Hollywood came a knockin’ once again- this time three doors down to the south.

A few scenes of Sunshine Cleaning are being filmed at the Kim and Charles Salas house on the southeast corner of Walter and Lead. Here’s a quickie pic I snapped from the front porch this afternoon that demonstrates how even a small budget film can really impact a neighborhood.

I don’t know much about the film besides what is already posted on IMDB.com. Alan Arkin stars in the movie. One of the more intriguing actors in the movie is Amy Adams who not only reportedly provides the voice of Sweet Polly Purebred in the new Underdog movie, but also appeared in the juicy seventh episode of SMALLVILLE a number of years ago. In Craving, Adams portrayed Jodi Melville, a confused teenager who’s vegetable-only diet (of course heavily dosed with kryptonite) created an unquenchable thirst for the body fat of unsuspecting Smallvillians.

king of the food chain

2007-03-04T22:39:00.000-07:00

Think you're funnier? Submit your own "winning" entry HERE.

tuesday afternoon

2007-02-28T02:45:00.000-07:00

The Moody Blues rolled into Rio Rancho, New Mexico on February 27th with the sole purpose of entertaining an estimated crowd of 2,500 fans who didn’t want to travel all the way from Albuquerque to Denver to see them, but were willing to make the trek out to the Santa Ana Star Center.

The British rockers would have been successful in their goal even if they had only performed one of their two 50-minute sets. After opening the concert with Lovely to See You Again, My Friend, the band delivered an extremely polished version of Tuesday Afternoon- probably one of the songs that first attracted me to the Moody Blues many years ago.

You are aware, I assume, that the Moodies are one of Opus’ favorite bands. Although you may not completely understand everything about the life of that odd little comic penguin, one can hardly question his taste in music.

The light show was phenomenal as the band continued with Lean On Me Tonight, Never Comes the Day and Steppin' in a Slide Zone. Although the crowd clearly enjoyed the overall performance up to this point, The Voice was the first song to get the majority of the people up on their feet at the same time.

The remainder of the first set included spirited renditions of One More Time to Live, I Know You’re Out There Somewhere and The Story in Your Eyes.

My challenge during the subsequent 20-minute intermission was to bombard the audience with commercials on the jumbotron and ads on the ribbon board- forcing them to seek shelter among the concession stands located throughout the concourse. I think it is safe to say that I managed to sell a few beers.

The second set began with Your Wildest Dreams. It’s funny how I hadn’t thought about the video for that song in over two decades until I saw them in concert.

Isn’t Life Strange was easily the strongest performance of the evening. The best way I can think to describe that tune for someone not at the concert is to ask them to imagine watching a autumn-colored leaf drop from the top of a tall tree, rocking gently toward the ground, then catching a thermal breeze and rising ever so slowly back toward the fading sun. You know that it will eventually come to rest, but catch yourself hoping this one will defy the rules and remain aloft- thereby preventing the onset of winter. But it can't.

Before the people standing at the end of Isn’t Life Strange had a chance to reclaim their seats, they were sawn in half by bassist John Lodge ripping through The Other Side of Life. Another hit from the 80s!

The next tune, December Snow, was from their Krismas album released some 4 years ago- so it was new to me.

No other song of the evening was performed with more passion than Higher and Higher as percussionist Graeme Edge climbed down from his drum set to take the microphone. Armed with only a tambourine, Edge danced an energetic jig while chasing flutist Norda Mullen around the stage and flashing his highly contagious Cheshire grin at appreciative fans- all while surreal clips of historic Apollo missions and Neil Armstrong strolling on the moon were projected onto the giant screen behind the band. Even if you don’t click on any of the other links in this entry, be sure you do check out this one. It will give you a good idea of the amount of joy this artist has on stage.

Edge has the distinction of being the sole remaining member of the original Moody Blues formed in 1964. Newbies Justin Hayward and John Lodge have only been with the band for fourty-one years. It almost seems rude of me to not include the names of the other band members (two keyboardists and another drummer), but sometimes I'm like that. You’ll get over it.

Band member introductions were followed by a rousing performance of I’m Just a Singer (in a Rock 'n' Roll Band). The psychedelic 30-year-old concert footage on the backdrop would have been fun enough- but throw in the live performance on the stage in front and I began to appreciate how successful bank robbers must feel on payday.

I didn’t get to “see” the end of the show, as I had to make my way backstage in order to be ready to run the post-concert commercials. However, I had no troubles hearing as they closed with Are You Sitting Comfortably? and Nights in White Satin.

I was extremely disappointed when the concert director announced that the band would be performing Question for their encore instead of Ride My See-Saw which they reportedly played as the encore following a concert in Las Vegas, Nevada three weeks previously. Don’t get me wrong, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Question, but See-Saw is one of my favorite Moody Blues’ tunes. Much to my delight, the band returned to the stage and performed it as a second encore.

The only other song that I REALLY wanted to see the Moodies perform was Legend of a Mind. Maybe next time!

didja hear the one about the lumberjack?

2007-02-14T00:50:00.000-07:00

Submit your own caption...

albuquerque - february 12, 1876

2007-02-12T01:11:00.000-07:00

Albuquerque's first telecommunications link with the outside world was established via telegraph on February 12, 1876. The telegraph office was located in the Centennial Hotel owned by Major Melchior Werner.

albuquerque - february 10, 1897

2007-02-09T17:56:00.000-07:00

Fire completely destroyed the Armijo House, Albuquerque's first major hotel, on this date in 1897. Located on the southwest corner of Railroad Avenue (now Central) and 3rd Street, the Armijo House was a favorite stopping place of many visitors traveling through the New Mexico Territory via the transcontinental railroad. The railroad continues to service this burg today.

albuquerque - february 9, 1883

2007-02-09T17:52:00.000-07:00

Milt Yarberry, Albuquerque's first marshal, was hanged after being found guilty of shooting an unarmed man to death. It wasn’t the first time Milt had killed an unarmed man, but it was the first time he was hanged for it.

Legend has it that tickets were sold to the hanging that took place around 3 p.m. on February 9, 1883. Approximately 100 men were allowed into the yard, while an estimated 1,000 more gathered outside the fence on rooftops and in trees to witness the first legal execution in Bernalillo County.

Following a lengthy speech, witnesses stated that Yarberry uttered his last words as Archie Hilton pulled a black cap down over his face… “Well, you are going to hang an innocent man.” Doctors present stated that it took 9 minutes for Milt’s heart to stop beating after he was hanged.

Yarberry was buried in the Santa Barbara Cemetery in Martineztown. Although it was reported that Milt was buried still wearing the noose as his necktie, I can’t help but suspect that that particular detail was in fact, fiction.

that'll leave a mark

2007-02-08T04:42:00.000-07:00

I suppose it is inevitable that people who conduct historical research tend to wonder what sort of mark they will eventually leave in their wake- if ANY. Obviously, the “present” tends to obscure the future “past” to the point that it is left unrecognizable as such. Or possibly, the past can only be truly pondered for its significance by people who weren’t involved- and therefore removing the various levels of bias that are certain to cloud almost anyone’s perspective.

Admittedly that is one of the thoughts that bounces around in my skull while I’m reading New Mexico territorial newspapers from the 1880s in search of tidbits about base ball players and games that were played when the west was still untamed. Constantly distracted from my subject by fascinating reports of bank robberies, train wrecks, outbreaks of smallpox and other devastating diseases, and countless tragic double axe murders that would give Theodore Dreiser nightmares, I find myself surprised by my own amazement at how little “we’ve” changed over the past 120-some years.

Of course it isn’t all doom and gloom; the papers are also filled with reports of relaxing Sunday picnics, humorous stories about everyday events, and articles concerning technological advances or people determined to make advancements for the betterment of the world. The bottom line is that as I scroll through the reels of microfilm one frame at a time, allowing the mundane elements of the past reveal themselves to me along with the anticipated major timeline markers, I can’t help but notice that the contributions of most people are soon swept under the rug. Simply put, in the grand scheme of things, fifteen minutes isn’t very much time at all.

I sincerely hope you haven’t read this far expecting me to provide an answer. Hell, I’ve digressed so wide I barely remember the concept, let alone any question that I may have proposed. Oh yeah… leaving one’s mark!

Let’s assume for a minute that you wish to be “remembered” for more than just your name and social security number in various census tracts and records maintained by clueless government clerks and ordained archivists of the Church of the Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints; headstone-cold data that will only be uncovered by the most probing of genealogical exams. Perhaps you don’t care to tempt the historical fates by leaving behind only a few unremarkable snapshots in a very limited run of a handful of high school yearbooks. Unless you are the type of person capable of inventing something similar to (but completely different from) the atomic bomb or the internet (which you very well may be given that you have chosen to read this entry) one method that may hold the most promise is to consciously divide your allotted 15 minutes into manageable nanoseconds, and disperse them into as many different media as possible. Write a book (and get it published). Appear in a (meaningful) motion picture- even as an extra. Create some art. Submit a killer recipe to a magazine. Start a blog. Record an album. Take photographs and distribute them far and wide. Heck, develop your own television show for public access and have it beamed to well beyond the furthest reaches of the universe.

Making kids on the other hand, does NOT count. You'll need to be more creative than that.

One of the more interesting unanticipated finds on the microfilm of the 1883 Daily Democrat is this image of a thumb of the person who photographed the newspapers before they were destroyed. Unfortunately, I don’t have the name of the person to attach to the thumb, but I do know that they worked for a firm called Golightly Payne Coon in El Paso, Texas, and probably in the late 1950s. I’m left wondering whether the person intentionally included their thumb on the corner of all the pages, or if it was accidental. Seriously, that is the kind of thing I would do on purpose just to mess with a person from the future. And probably that is why I’ve never worked for a microfilm company.

I decided that I would copy the idea and include my version here on Blog Kabin Fever to entertain my readers. Normally I wouldn’t admit to copying someone else’s idea, but given DIY Networks’ recent decision to steal the name of my blog, and then bastardize the spelling in order to prevent me from unleashing a torrent of lawyers to threaten them, I figured “What the heck.”

same old yorker

2007-02-02T14:49:00.000-07:00

My recent entries to the contest.

another belated birthday greeting

2007-01-29T12:27:00.000-07:00

Harvey Fergusson, the grandson of influential Albuquerque businessman Franz Huning, was born in the old Spanish hacienda at 1801 Central Avenue NW on January 28, 1890. This novelist's best-known works include Rio Grande, Wolf Song, Grant of Kingdom and The Conquest of Don Pedro.

some sort of miracle

2007-01-24T03:19:00.000-07:00

So, I was walking from the library to my truck this evening, when I observed a young Hispanic woman get off the bus carrying an infant in one arm and dragging a toddler behind her with the other. They were in front of me- walking in the same direction. I maintained my pace, as I was in time to make it across the Fifth Street before the light changed to yellow. I wasn't sure they were going to be so fortunate.

Somehow, they made it.

As I got closer and closer behind them, I could hear the mother quietly scolding the toddler... "We could have had a warm ride if you hadn't kept falling down," "Stop it!" and "C'mon, use your feet!" are some prime examples. The little girl was whimpering and crying. Admittedly, my eyes also had tears in them, but that was due to the cold.

Just as I began to pass them on the grass to their right, the little girl stopped and pointing to a statue of Jesus on the outside of a church asked, "Is that God?"

Taking a break from her scolding, the mother replied, "Yes."

They took a few more steps before the toddler noticed something that looked like a TV or cb radio antenna on the roof of the church. Puzzled, she asked, "Is that God too?"

The mother said, "No," then told her to stop dragging her feet and again pulled her along by the hood of her plastic parka - this time behind me.

The moral of this story? I believe I’ll leave that open to your interpretation.

This is a photo of the actual statue mentioned above. People familiar with downtown Albuquerque will realize immediately that this photo was taken a number of years ago, before someone snapped off one of Jesus’ thumbs.

Fred Raymer

2006-12-24T23:41:00.000-07:00

Frederick Charles Raymer was born on November 12, 1875 in Leavenworth, Kansas. At the age of 19, Fred found himself in Albuquerque working as a fireman for the Atlantic & Pacific Railway, and playing shortstop for the Albuquerque Browns Base Ball Club. I haven’t determined how long he lived in the Duke City, but I have a feeling that it wasn’t for very long.

Raymer got his chance to play in the big leagues on April 24, 1901 at the age of 25 when he served as a utility infielder for the Chicago Orphans. After committing 42 errors out of 215 opportunities in 119 games, Fred wouldn’t see big league action again for 2 full seasons. Quite likely, Raymer simply wasn’t cut out to play the hot corner. That said, Raymer did start a triple play for the Orphans on June 14, 1901 in a game they lost to the New York Giants.

The Boston Beaneaters took a chance on Raymer in 1904 by making him their second baseman for 114 of their 153 games. Fred hit the only home run of his major league baseball career that magical season.

Raymer played 136 games for the Beaneaters in 1905, including single starts at first base and in the outfield. After flying out in the top of the second inning of the first game of a double header against New York, Raymer was allowed to “courtesy run” for teammate Rip Cannell who had ironically ripped his leg open while stealing second base with Raymer in the batter’s box. It was reported that Raymer was stranded at 2nd base, and Cannell retuned to his defensive position when the Beaneaters took to the field at the bottom of the inning. Weird, huh?

Raymer’s career major league baseball offensive stats include 301 hits, 95 runs and 101 RBIs with a .218 batting average. Fred swiped exactly 50 bases without being caught a single time. Interestingly enough, the young speedster also never grounded into a double play.

Although Raymer played in his final major league game on October 7, 1905, he obviously continued to play professional ball in the minor leagues as confirmed by these intriguing tobacco cards from 1910 and 1911.

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Raymer passed away in Los Angeles on June 11, 1957. He was reportedly cremated- perhaps in honor of his days spent shoveling coal into the furnaces of steam locomotives.

the scratching post

2006-12-24T03:17:00.000-07:00

You may find it difficult to believe that I’ve had requests from readers to include my helper from the recent bathroom renovation project in more entries. On the other hand, perhaps you wouldn’t.

All I am prepared to say on the matter is that I will try.

Unfortunately it will be difficult to include Kancun in any discussions about baseball because she never goes to any games. Also, she isn’t allowed into my office where I keep my baseball cards. It isn’t that she doesn’t “like” baseball, mind you, but rather due to the fact that we are complete opposites when it comes to the proper methods for handling memorabilia.

just like "old days"

2006-12-22T02:18:00.000-07:00

A most unexpected thing happened during my quest to rebuild a set of 75 Topps baseball cards. After reading my blog, a buddy from the old stomping grounds in the west-central portion of the Land of Lincoln Logs sent me all his duplicate cards hoping they would help out. I’m completely stoked knowing that one-sixth of the set that I will compile will have once lived in the very same gas station candy display case where I used to buy my cards.

Amazingly, the cards don’t appear to have seen the light of day since the Bicentennial!

This Robin Yount rookie card, one of the “key cards” of the set, is a shiny example of the great condition of the entire windfall. If you ever have a chance to check out my cards, be sure to ask to see a few of the cards from the Toastmaster Collection.

I suppose the moral of this entry is that sometimes… it pays to blog!

(So you’d like to see YOUR name mentioned here in my blog but don’t feel like sending me a stack of 75 Topps baseball cards? Well, I’m also going to be working on the 1974 set…)

in a new yorker minute

2006-12-20T01:56:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I have good reasons for not posting an entry for a considerable period of time. But usually it is because I have been wasting time creating witty entries for the New Yorker magazine cartoon caption contest.

After deciding that the "contest" is a scam a while back, I quit entering and just started emailing my "entries" to people I thought would either think them hilarious, or cause them to scratch a raw spot on their scalp attempting to figure out what they had done to deserve that particular evidence of my insanity.

But no more... I've now decided to just post them here. Thus, here is what I would add to this Lee Lorenz arting:

duke city baseball

2006-12-15T14:09:00.000-07:00

Imagine a late spring afternoon on the west-trending toe slope of the Sandia Mountain foothills overlooking the rich, green Rio Grande valley in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The year is 1969. The date is Monday, March 31st. Only a few hours before, the nation had buried former president General Dwight D. Eisenhower.

A total of 13,767 baseball fans gathered together to celebrate the grand opening of the $1.4 million Albuquerque Sports Stadium (now Isotopes Park) by watching a major league exhibition game between the Cleveland Indians and the San Francisco Giants. Obviously a large contingent of dignitaries were on hand as it was reported that only 12,959 people paid for the privilege of scrambling for one of the 10,510 seats. The remaining 3,257 slower moving fans and late arrivers would stand (probably in line for hotdogs).

The game ended tied at 5- called after the end of the 8th inning due to darkness. Quite possibly a full game would have been played if the scheduled 3:00 pm start time hadn’t been pushed back an hour after Baseball Commissioner Bowie Kuhn ordered the suspension of all baseball activities until one hour following the burial of President Eisenhower.

Still, the inaugural event must have been some kind of spectacle!

The first player to cross home plate was San Francisco’s Bobby Bonds. This stellar image captured by Ray Cary for the Albuquerque Journal depicts the historic moment, as Indians catcher Joe Azcue is unable to tag the speedy Bonds.

Cleveland’s Tony Horton two-run blast in the bottom of the first inning was the first homerun hit in the Duke City’s shiny new “multipurpose” stadium. His rocket traveled an estimated 390-400 feet before it was deposited in the lava rocks beyond the fence in left-centerfield.

My favorite image (of those I’ve seen) of that day is without a doubt this shot of kids hanging over the Giants dugout attempting to get autographs.

According to witnesses present, 13-year-old Mike Garcia had to leave the game before it was completed for undisclosed reasons. His father Tom would later explain that Mike was heartbroken because he had failed to meet his hero, Willie Mays, in person. Thus, one can easily imagine Mike dragging his feet as he followed his family toward the exit of the ballpark; perhaps listening for clues of how the game was progressing- including cheering of the crowd and public address announcements. The youngster had no way of knowing that he was just a single crack of the bat away from cashing in a portion of his fifteen minutes of fame- the hard way.

As it turned out, Mays had been removed from the lineup in the seventh inning after going 0 for 3 at the plate. Having used the underground tunnels to make a quick escape via a waiting taxi, Willie surfaced near the exit, an estimated 10 feet away from Garcia. Amazed by this lucky development, the lad immediately made his move, determined to get an autograph from the Say Hey Kid before he slipped away.

Garcia never knew what hit him. It was a major league foul ball. Mike was struck above his right eye, and was believed to be unconscious before he hit the concrete. While Giants trainer Leo Hughes was summoned to attend to Garcia, Mays’ warm-up jacket was used as a pillow to comfort the kid. Sensing blood with their keen reporter instincts, Tribune photographers Al Cabral and Mark Bush began hovering over the scene looking for the perfect photo opportunities.

It is unclear why Garcia didn’t end up with an autograph. “You can bet I’m going to send him an autograph,” Mays reportedly told bystanders. “You get that young fellow’s name and address for me and I’ll see that he gets an autograph.” I can’t help but wonder if Mike ever heard from Mays after that.

One would think that getting clobbered with a foul ball and having your photo taken while you are laid out on the ground- then plastered in the newspaper the following day would be about as bad of a time one could experience at a baseball game. Well, during that same game, Tribune sports editor Carlos Salazar reported that Arthur Henry died in the stands of a heart attack.

Like I said, that must have been some kind of spectacle!

big gun

2006-11-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

Next item on the auction block is this SWEET Albert Pujols minor league card. I got this thing autographed before an Arizona Fall League game in 2000, not long before Albert made is smashing appearance on the Major League Baseball scene.

I’m hoping this will help generate a fair amount of ca$h for my 75 Topps reacquisition fund. One of the things that make this particular card rare is the fact that he signed it “Jose A. Pujols.” Today, you would be pretty lucky to get an “A Puj” on your card.

Also, when I handed Albert the card before the game I asked him how he was doing. He replied that he was doing good, but then began complaining that his hat was too tight. The memory of that odd remark still makes me laugh today.

At any rate, it should prove interesting to see how much this goes for.

quest for the best

2006-11-26T22:07:00.000-07:00

Some 23 years ago, I did the unfathomable. I sold my baseball card collection. Well, most of it anyway. I kept the handful of cards that I had gotten autographed, and the five cards that I had identified as being my favorites. But the rest of the 40,000+ cards I had accumulated were sold to an insurance agent for only $350. It still makes me sick to think about how I allowed him to rip me off, but I really needed the cash for food while I was in college. At least I lived to learn.

Interestingly, the fella who bought my cards was arrested several years later for breaking into his clients’ homes and stealing their valuables while they were on vacation.

The vast majority of my cards were purchased one pack at a time from Mr. Burcham’s candy display case at the Sunoco gas station on Main Street in Toulon, Illinois. I traded with buddies to build complete sets and even managed to squirrel away a few unopened packs each year. Those alone would have been worth a small fortune today. I also traded “new” cards to older kids who no longer bought cards, but where still interested in collecting cards of players from their favorite teams.

My wife recently asked me how I got my hands on money when I was a kid. I would use money I received for my birthday, and would go around the neighborhood offering to shovel snow, rake leaves, or performing other odd jobs to raise baseball card funds.

I clearly remember the afternoon that Bob Bent caught me smashing pop bottles against the side of a shelter in the “city” park. Bob made me pick up the glass and carry it to a nearby trashcan. After I dumped the glass, Bob pulled a couple of whole bottles out of the trash and handed them to me. Then he marched me across the street and into the grocery store. As if out of some Hollywood movie, the storeowner gave me a nickel for each bottle. I was stunned! My first lesson in economics was as complete as it had been unexpected. I wondered why they didn’t teach us interesting stuff like that in school. Real life was much more exciting. As it turns out, that was the day that I began walking around looking for “stuff.” After that, I began finding money on a regular basis.

At any rate, I’ve been kicking myself in the ass since the day I sold my cards. With that in mind, I’ve decided that the thing I need to do is to begin recollecting the cards of my youth. And what better way to get started than by working on my favorite set… the 1975 Topps MLB cards? Rather than buying a set outright, I imagine I will go about it by picking up small lots and actually building the set myself. To quote Bruce Springsteen, “That’s where the fun is.”

Given the high cost of such an undertaking, I’ve also decided that the best approach would be to sell items of less personal significance than those I am interested in acquiring. Thus, I have listed my first item for sale on eBay in nearly two years… a complete 84-card set of Disabled American Veterans major league baseball cards.

While waiting to see how much fundage that set will bring (if anything), I will pull out the small stack of 75 Topps cards that I already have and work on creating a checklist to add to my updated baseball cards “want list.”

the R word

2006-11-23T23:32:00.000-07:00

I am extremely thankful each and every time a blogworthy topic literally falls into my lap(top). Today was no exception.

It actually all started about a couple of months back when an odd entry was posted in my neighborhood association’s message board. You are welcome to read that entry yourself, or take my word for it when I report that, in a nutshell, the message called for the cessation of disparaging remarks about renters in the monthly newsletter.

Although I didn’t pay much attention to the post at first, I admit that it did settle into that part of my brain where things go that I’m unsure how to process. A couple of weeks later, someone posted a reply to the posting that left me literally scratching my head as the questions again began tickling the interior of my skull.

Are renters bad for property values? Are renters really less responsible than property owners? Does not a homeowner who neglects their property actually represent more of a drain on the local environment? Is all stereotyping “wrong?”

I’m pretty sure that I never mentioned the disgusting habits of our old neighbors due to my policy of trying to abstain from writing with negativity. I have no idea where these folks came from, but I was dumfounded when it soon became apparent that they considered empty beer cans and pizza boxes as appropriate landscaping materials. To make a long and irritating story short, they seldom bothered to wheel their trash out to the street, opting instead to toss it on the ground in the vicinity of the overflowing trash container hidden behind a pile of garbage on the side of their (rental) house.

The situation got so bad that I actually began taking their trash out to the curb each week. Of course I bitched and muttered to myself every step of the way, but at least I was being proactive and dealing with the problem rather than just watching it. I even hoped that someone in that household would take notice, and would learn from my example. Fat chance!

When they eventually moved out, they left behind a front yard full of debris that random passersby undoubtedly mistook as a tribute to the post-Katrina city of New Orleans. That mess festered for the better part of a week before a city cop investigating reported suspicious activities at the vacant house called the property managing company and threatened to cite and fine them if they didn’t get it cleaned up.

Before purchasing this house just over two years ago, I had been a renter for just over two solid decades. Honestly, I do not recall ever leaving a place in poor shape. I’m not suggesting that I didn’t live in some real hellholes. I did. But I can assure you that in those situations, the property was definitely more habitable (and I would imagine therefore more valuable) after I moved out than when I moved in. On the flipside, I have had friends who survived terrible living conditions- either inherited or self-inflicted. (You know who you are!)

But those are just a few examples that I can’t offer any evidence to support. Which brings me to this:

For the past year, a handful of college-age kids have been renting the house two doors down the street and just a half a mile from the railroad track. Never mind the loud, all night parties they staged on a regular basis, and the fact that their guests did more than a fair job of screwing up the already limited parking throughout the surrounding square block area. They were nice enough people. The issue for them was that they didn’t take responsibility for the trash that they created in a timely manner. When they moved out this past week, they left behind a pile of garbage that spilled out of the two dumpsters and across the front lawn onto a public sidewalk. The mound is impressive enough that it would likely cause Fred Sanford to have a stroke if he drove down the block.

Obviously, the “responsible” thing to do when you accumulate a mountain of trash like this is to make a trip or seven to one of several city dumps. But one can hardly expect someone(s) to know something like that when they are so naïve as to expect that city trash collectors are going to clean up after them.

It should go without saying that I was afraid that Officer Obie would happen along while I was snapping this pair of eight-by-ten color glossy photographs, and assuming that I had dumped all the crap on the sidewalk, write me a ticket AND make me pick up the garbage. For those of you who have been living under Plymouth Rock for the past 40 years, Alice’s Restaurant is to Thanksgiving what a movie that is played all day long each and every Christmas is to, well… Christmas. Of course the song (which definitely came first) is better than the movie.

Common sense dictates that the issue is actually tied to the difference between people and their individual comfort levels, and not whether they are renters or owners. However, I am of the opinion that these photos document the nightmare that some homeowners have when worrying about the new tenants who may move into the house next door. Personally, I have hope that the next crop will be better.

the forkcast

2006-11-22T02:05:00.000-07:00

First, some HUGE news! It seems that I hit the Powerball last week. No kidding! And considering that the holiday season is upon us, it couldn’t have happened at a better time.

Of course, the majority of the winnings have been earmarked to help offset the cost of the bathroom remodel. Speaking of which, I am very excited to announce that the project has at last come to an end. I would categorize any work needs that arise at this point as repair or maintenance issues. Additionally, I have tentatively scheduled the remodeling of the other bathroom for autumn in the year 2525.

kuriosity

2006-11-19T03:31:00.000-07:00

Have installed the new vanity and wash basin. I had a few issues with leaking in the drain line, but appear to have taken care of it by adding more Teflon tape and applying a bit more effort at tightening the fittings by hand.

Tasks are beginning to dwindle as I find myself now installing accessories such as mirrors and towels holders. Once again, thank goodness for my “helper.”

behold... the throne

2006-11-17T03:15:00.000-07:00

I now have the new toilet installed. Will wait a few days and continue to inspect for leakage before I caulk around the base.

drop the plug

2006-11-16T03:14:00.000-07:00

After trying to stop the previously mentioned leaks using first Teflon tape, then more torque, then joint compound- and watching all attempts drip to failure, I finally got some decent results using extra heavy Teflon tape.

Now while I wait anxiously to see if the seals will hold, I have a few moments to contemplate the age-old question, “How long can a person realistically expect to keep an entire family waiting to begin splashing around?”

rub a dub dub

2006-11-13T01:07:00.000-07:00

In between hockey games, I managed to finish painting the tub and actually move it back into the bathroom. If you’ve ever moved one of these things by yourself, then you can appreciate that I didn’t smash any of my fingers or toes in the process.

Is that a light at the end of the tunnel? Why yes it is. Unfortunately, that light represents leaks at both the hot and cold water supply lines where the ½-inch brass nipples feed into the ¾-inch input lines in the back of the faucet. Frustrated by the steady dripping, I disassembled that portion and will try again in a couple of days after I return from Arizona. I’m hoping that all I need is MORE Teflon tape and additional torque.

Once the tub is set, remaining tasks include installation of the new toilet and vanity/sink. I am also still searching for a nice cabinet that will fit in the corner behind the door. I am surprised that I can’t seem to locate any FREE plans to build my own cabinet on the interweb. What’s up with that?

as seen in refrigerator

2006-11-07T03:30:00.000-07:00

One neat little tip I’m happy to pass along is my method of dealing with a paint roller that I don’t feel like taking the time to clean properly. Not necessarily because I’m lazy, but rather because I am waiting for a coat of paint to dry and expect to be using it again in the near future.

Without removing the foam pad from the roller, I place the wet paint-covered portion in a one-gallon zip lock bag, and jam the entire contraption in the fridge. I’m sure there are a number of possible variations of the same idea, but I’ve found that everything works best when I place the handle upright and use masking tape to secure it to a shelf. This helps ensure that the roller doesn’t leap out of the fridge when someone else opens the door. Also, I recommend keeping the handle in the vicinity of the beer shelf in order to prevent injuring muscles that may not be used to stretching to other locations- say to a vegetable crisper for instance. (Of course I’m not claiming that my wife actually approves of this method, but as long as the project continues to move along, she seems willing to put up with oddities such as this.)

Speaking of progress, I finished cleaning the old caulking and paint remnants from the window and door trim, and have gotten all that lumber reinstalled. Also, I decided to use relatively narrow, decorative pine casing for the floor trim after considering the new vanity and the location of an existing water supply pipe. I believe the shortness of the trim will only help draw attention to the height of the walls, making the room seem as large as possible. As illustrated in these photos, I have gotten the trim cut to length and fit (more or less), sanded, stained (used Olympic One Step), and installed. I used a punch to sink the nail heads beneath the surface of the wood.

Although I should probably be busy filling in the resulting divots with wood putty, I’m going to take a few more seconds to mention something I consider unusual. I assume that we've all found ourselves on one side or other (possibly both) of the age-old argument: "What is proper- "grilled cheese" or "toasted cheese" sandwich?"

Have you seen the Hamilton Beach commercial for the Toastation toaster and oven? It’s the one where the woman whips out the term "cheese toast." I'm left wondering if this is a completely new phrase, or has anyone ever heard of it before? They even have a photo of this "new" dish on their website.

travels with coffee

2006-11-07T00:12:00.000-07:00

With a few errands to run downtown, I enjoyed a leisurely walkabout on what turned out to be a gorgeous Indian summer afternoon. As I made my way toward the summit of the Lead Street bridge over the railroad tracks, I noticed a small “to go” cup from the Frontier Restaurant next to the fence, seemingly trying to look over the edge to check out the Rail Runner trains several tens of feet below.

I think it’s funny how weird or unexpected items can make you think of stuff completely unrelated. Pondering the potential travels of this Styrofoam manuport reminded me of a film we were shown in grade school about this boy who carved a manned canoe out of a chunk of wood, named it “Paddle-to-the-Sea,” then took it outside and placed it in a snow bank. I know, already it is crazy. At any rate, spring arrived and the snow began to melt. Eventually, the canoe slid into a tiny stream of melt off water and began this incredible journey toward the open sea.

I won’t tell you how that journey ends, just in case you want to see the movie for yourself, or read the book. I continued to think about the movie while I walked around the city, taking a break to check out the progress of the ongoing construction project at the southeast corner of Lead and 2nd (near the El Madrid Lounge).

I always enjoy walking past St. John’s (Episcopal) Cathedral at the corner of Silver and 5th. Although I’ve never ventured inside the structure, the outside is very interesting. From there I walked to the PNM office to drop off payment for electrical goods and services. Sure, I could have dropped a check in the mail, but I figure why pay someone 39 cents to deliver an envelope (or not) that I could just as easily deliver myself. True, the water fountain outside PNM always makes me feel like I have to take a leak no matter how prepared I am.

I continued down Silver, hanging a “roger” after the delicious smells of the hot dog vendor began to fade, and shuffling up 6th Street past the post office where screams of “Use your turn signal” (directed at someone other than me) filled the air.

Pausing to read the billboards advertising coming attractions at the KiMo Theater, images of unspeakable things the cooks might have been doing to otherwise normal food in Lindy’s began creeping into my brain and forced me to flee.

Upon reaching the intersection of 6th and Copper, I was stunned by the complete lack of any signs of construction at the main library. Either the project has been completed, or someone has stolen all the fences, signs, materials, and workers. Either way, I made a mental note to pass this way again in the near future.

A quick pop in at the bank on the corner of 6th and Marquette to see what interesting things they are doing with money these days. I really like the new $10 bills! So much, in fact, that I am willing to trade two of my critically acclaimed archaeology coloring books for a single one.

I was astonished to discover that Compass Bank requires non-customers to leave a fingerprint if cashing a check issued by them, in addition to a $5 fee. I was even more surprised to witness someone agree to those terms. Perhaps I am too easily entertained.

After conducting my business, I left the bank via the rear exit- not so much in an attempt to cornfuse the security guard, but in keeping with my long-standing policy to refrain from retracing my steps whenever possible. By this time, the increasing afternoon shadows forced me to stroll through the wifi-friendly plaza area- possibly the best location to find sunshine in the downtown area at almost any time of day (excepting, of course, at night).

From there I continued through the shady 4th Street Plaza where school children gather to frolic amongst the city’s homeless as if playing in piles of autumn leaves. One hopes that the kids won’t start a fire with one of their carelessly discarded cigarette butts amongst all the dead wood.

Emerging from the cultural breezeway, I turned to the east and began walking along Central Avenue towards home. The blog-worthy sights and sounds encountered within the historic Route 66 corridor are so many that a person would have to sit on a bench all day EVERY day to even make a stab at recording them all. Actually, ONE does, but it isn’t me. Besides, that story is of a journey of an altogether different nature.

belated birthday wishes to a 5-foot beauty

2006-11-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am talking about our claw foot bathtub.

Not long after I got around to flipping this cast iron bad boy over to begin sanding and preparing the exterior for a new coat of paint, my helper discovered the maker’s mark. The “born on” date affixed to the belly of the beast indicates that the Crane Company manufactured the tub on October 22, 1930- just two years after the company initially introduced colored bathroom fixtures to US consumers.

Unfortunately, I have yet to discover any evidence to suggest whether this fantastic early Great Depression era relic was “new” to the house, or brought in “used” at some later date. Thus, the only previous resident that I can say with any certainty never enjoyed a soak in “Old No. 5” was Louisa Watson who passed away in 1928.

komiks

2006-10-31T01:34:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, I’ve been accused of being many things in the past. I’m positive that no one is more disturbed than I about the current grass roots movement amongst my readership to have me officially declared a “writer.”

For those of you who only know me through these ramblings, no, I do not have a background in journalism. Wait a second. Actually, the first writing I ever did outside of school (and was therefore pretty much the first writing assignment I had ever completed) was for a weekly newspaper in west-central Illinois. Twenty some years ago, Lowell “Bud” McKirgan, owner/editor of The Prairie Times, entrusted me to cover local public meetings throughout Stark County, including school board and city hall meetings in the towns of LaFayette, Toulon and Wyoming. I also recall having lost my way en route to a meeting in the village of Wady Petra- or was that someone else?

I learned a lot from Bud. Firstly, it wasn’t enough that I simply attend the meetings, but I also had to write down things that happened or were discussed. You see I only got paid for articles that I turned in. Bud also encouraged me to take one of his cameras with me in the event that something amazing transpired. Nothing ever did. Mostly city and county board members discussed wastewater treatment facilities, stray cat issues, and listened to complaints about particularly bad sections of sidewalks or roadways. I think the most exciting thing that ever “went down” during one of the meetings was when the President of the village of LaFayette (I think his name was Peavy) interrupted a heated discussion about noise complaints involving the town’s only bar, looked directly at me (the “press”) and said, “This isn’t to be reported.” Of course I responded by pretending to write down every word that was being uttered.

Whenever school board meetings got halfway interesting, the board would excuse themselves and go into “executive session.” One time I was convinced they had done so in order to watch Monday Night Football. When the meeting later reconvened it was announced that the price of a pint of chocolate milk would be raised to 15 cents, and regular milk would remain at 10 cents. Stop the presses!

After getting into archaeology several years later, I began acquiring the tools to become a technical writer in order to increase my marketability in an effort to compete for an elusive wintertime lab position. I could go on and on about what is involved in authoring an archaeological survey or excavation report, but a quick glance at some of the titles I was either responsible for, or contributed to, should give you plenty of insight as to how dry that was.

The funny thing is that I thought writing in an almost cookie-cutter manner was challenging- until I took my first stab at fiction a few years ago. It took me quite a while to train myself that I could write in any direction I pleased.

Another interesting thing about my writing is that once I started on my novel, I pretty much gave up reading altogether. I’m not sure if that was because I didn’t want the distraction, or if I was afraid that I might start stealing the words of other writers.

One thing for sure is that I am not a reader of blogs. Most blogs bore me to tears with their self-indulgent sermons and fragmented run-on paragraphs. Heck, I wouldn’t even read my own blog if not for the fact that someone needs to edit it.

That typed, I have become a regular visitor to one blog that was called to my attention by one of my readers. I would say that I am more interested in the concept behind The Comics Curmudgeon, than I am in the actual resulting product. I’ve been monitoring this blog pretty closely, searching for signs of brilliance. Strangely enough, his readers have contributed the best stuff I’ve encountered.

I’m very curious to find out how the author doesn’t get hammered for using the work of other people without paying for it (which I’m sure he doesn’t do). I mean, Bil Keane might be willing to let someone reprint his art, but probably not if they are only going to attempt to rip it to shreds. Anyhoo, it is an interesting concept.

For years I have toyed with the notion of trying my hand at a comic strip. Maybe I will get one or two completed and publish them here. Lord knows it is as good of use of my time as is trying to “win” the New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest.

grout expectations

2006-10-30T12:52:00.000-07:00

According to my knees, I’m finished with the grout portion of the program.

I applied Mapei brand “warm gr(e)y” Keracolor S grout, hoping that it wouldn’t argue with the 12-inch Glacier Bay “Arctic Blue” porcelain tiles I had set into Mapei Ultracontact full-contact mortar. The application went well, and the clean up really only required a solid block of time and lots of elbow grease.

The floor has a few issues, but in general I’m pleased with the outcome. Tiling is definitely something that I wouldn’t want to do five (or more) days a week.

"my wallet's gone! my wallet's gone!"

2006-10-23T13:49:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, in a land so far away it pratically seemed nearby, lived a middle-aged lad who had in his possession a magic wallet. At first, second, or even third-glances it appeared to be a normal, average wallet- but that was only part of its magic.

Created from the tanned hide of a holy brown cow, this unique bi-fold wallet was used to store not only script, but also secret potions and mysterious plastic cards that could be flashed by the fella in order to hypnotize merchants and cause them to offer him goods and services seemingly without having to pay or barter for them. Some of the cards could even be inserted into machines that the man would tickle with his fingers until it began to laugh and cough out paper money. Many folks in the village discussed the phenomena in low tones, being very careful to never let the man hear them.

Also stored in the wallet were important data about the man, the location of his home, and even the type of blood that pulsed through his veins. Definitely not the kind of stuff he’d want to fall into the wrong hands!

The magic wallet was always kept near the man. Normally he would secure it in the left rear pocket of his trousers in order to be able to retrieve it in a moments notice. He would also regularly wear a long flannel cloak that served to both keep him warm and to help thwart attempts by pickpockets to lift the wallet. During the evenings, the wallet was always placed on a shrine next to the man’s pocket dagger and ointment that prevented his lips from becoming chapped by the harsh winds that regularly sandblasted the less vegetated regions of the kingdom. Okay, sometimes the man would be so weary from his day’s adventure that he would forget to remove the wallet from his pocket before climbing into bed, but in those cases his pants were normally on the floor at the foot of the bed.

This odd relationship between the man and the wallet continued uninterrupted literally for years- many years. Then one day out of the blue, evil spirits fell upon the man obscuring his ability to sleep comfortably and causing him to see visions of monstrous objects of all shapes, colors and sizes floating through the air. These shapes taunted the man with the fire of dragons while the evil spirits whipped up winds and rains and further distracted him by intermittently blocking out the sun and stars. It appeared to be either the end of times, or the beginning of something worse.

After nine days, the sky cleared and the shapes vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The man celebrated this fortunate turn of events by eating a spiced pork sandwich and slipping off into a deep sleep. When the man awoke, all seemed right in the land… until he reached for the magic wallet with his hand. Like the shapes and winds, it too had vanished! What luck!

In a panic, the man searched high and low, near and far, even to and fro- all in vain. The evil spirits had cast a cloaking spell over the wallet making it invisible to all who joined in the search. The man was devastated.

Rebounding as quickly as possible, he set about contacting the wizards who had issued the powerful cards and potions contained in the wallet to make sure they deactivated them before they could be used against him. One by one he had to admit his loss, and promise that he would do better if given another chance.

Following each successful conference, the man would again conduct a thorough search for the wallet sweeping his entire kingdom. He looked in drawers and cupboards, on the tops of books, under books, even inside books, under the bed, in his boots, under hats, in the stove, in boxes, and in spare pockets of other pants, jackets, and socks (yes, even in socks). Time after time, the searches proved fruitless. That isn’t to say that he didn’t discover some interesting things. He did… but no wallet.

Three complete sun cycles had passed since the man had dealt with the last of the card issuers when it struck him that he had forgotten one that he seldom used, and immediately set about dealing with the issue. In that meanwhile, he had struck a deal with the maker of the finest equipment used by the noble knights engaged in baseball, the grandest sport of all the land, for a replacement wallet. He figured that this magic would be more powerful than ever, given that the gods of baseball would be smiling on the Rawlings brand. Little did he know that the magic would begin working quickly, and in ways he never imagined.

The man was working in his den during the dark of night as the carriage containing his new wallet drew closer and closer, minute by minute. He remembered that the king’s men would arrive at first light to collect the weekly tax of household trash. While he grabbed the small, round receptacle adjacent to his writing desk, the man’s subconscious teased him by informing him that it was the one place he had failed to include in his searches. Dumping the contents of the container onto the floor, he began rummaging through the rummage like a kitten playing with tissue paper.

Unable to determine whether the man’s red face was the result of his labor, or his embarrassment of somehow having discarded the wallet into the trashcan, this author can only relate the fact that the jester and wallet had been reunited. No thieves had made off with it in the night. Nothing was missing. The fact that none of the magic cards still in his possession retained any powers was nobody’s fault but his own. A lesson had been learned, but its meaning was immediately lost upon the man.

Once upon a time, there lived a man who was VERY happy with the wallet he carried as a result of a silly mistake he had made.

progress

2006-10-23T01:13:00.001-06:00

I finally finished setting all the floor tiles in the bathroom. After messing around trying to make my cuts using a coping saw with a diamond-coated blade, and then a borrowed tile hand saw, I ended up punting and heading back to the hardware store for a wet saw. About three hours after I returned home, I not only had all my tiles cut, but also had found extra time to water the remaining plants in the garden (strawberries, sunflowers, hollyhocks, grapes, marigolds, tomatoes and cantaloupes). I plan on returning the pair of tile nippers I bought but never used.

I began laying the special cut and border tiles right after watching the Tigers tie the Cardinals in World Series at one game each. I ended up with two full tiles and some change to spare. Now that I have that done and all the cat thin-set footprints wiped up off the hardwood floors, I’ll let it rest for a full day before I think about adding any grout.

I need to add another coat of paint to the window before I reinstall the trim. I also need to select and install the baseboard molding and repaint the bathtub exterior before I can start putting in the fixtures. I’m finally beginning to feel like I’m turning the corner on this remodeling project.

needling

2006-10-20T23:57:00.000-06:00

Taking a step back to consider my options for cutting tiles for the area surrounding the bathtub plumbing fixtures, I decided to take a closer look at that cold water supply line that I believed to be broken. Utilizing a pair of needle nose pliers and an ample amount of determination, I was finally able to extract a broken piece of pipe that measures about ½-inch in length from inside the connection.

Although several of you are becoming bored with how long it is taking me to tile the floor, I must say that my assistant seems perfectly content to pass the time by scooting the plastic tile spacers around the floor as if they were hockey pucks.

Speaking of hockey, Saturday is the open house at the brand new Santa Ana Star Center in Rio Rancho. This is where our hockey team, the New Mexico Scorpions, will begin playing home games next Friday. I will be operating the four DAKtronics matrix signs during games, and will also be called upon to direct some of the video productions. That will entail calling for shots from the three cameras, editing and playing instant replays, and running sponsor commercials and appropriate video clips from movies such as Slap Shot and Strange Brew. I don’t think these games will be available for viewing online, but then I may be wrong.

tiling for dollars

2006-10-17T17:20:00.000-06:00

Okay, I got the full field tiles set, now will let the thin-set cure while I run to a bar and watch game 5 of the National League Championship Series and ponder the cuts I need to make for the remainder of the room.

2006 albuquerque balloon fiesta photos

2006-10-16T01:56:00.001-06:00

unexpected progress

2006-10-09T23:12:00.000-06:00

Monday’s events at the balloon fiesta were rained out, so I took advantage of the down time and installed the cabinet in the bathroom wall. Granted, it isn’t a giant leap forward, but it does represent one less task to complete.

I also began messing around with various possible tile layouts to see what looks best. Unfortunately, I don’t think the easiest method (just leaving them all stacked in the corner of the room) is going to fly.

99 red balloons (plus 700 other colors)

2006-10-09T02:45:00.000-06:00

After living in the Duke City for more than five years, I finally can say that I’ve attended the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta. Well, I guess I could have claimed that before, but now the statement would be true.

Although only two of the scheduled nine days of the event have passed, I already have a few observations to make. First, if you are planning on attending the event in the future, I highly recommend that you figure out a way to be paid for your time spent there. Otherwise, I’m not convinced that it is worth the effort and cost.

As for the effort, I’m talking about the traffic and wading through the seemingly endless sea of humanity. Imagine fighting through heavy traffic to get to a shopping mall on Krismas Eve, then having to choose from relatively tacky “fair-quality” goods for those on your shopping list. That isn’t to say that some of the merchandise isn’t downright expensive.

As for the expense, admission to the balloon park is $6.00 per day or event, and parking is $10.00 per car. As an alternative, fiesta goers have the option of taking advantage of the city’s park and ride program. However, at $10.50 per person, that route really only pays off if you are a family of two or less. Plus, given the lines of people I’ve seen waiting to get a ride back to their cars, you might as well just find a soothing station on your car stereo and settle in for the slow ride into the park in your own vehicle.

I arrive at around 4:00 am each morning to set up my camera and discuss with the other camera operators how we are going to shoot the event, or wait through the rain to see whether or not the morning’s launch is going to be cancelled (as was the case Sunday). I have a good hour after set-up before anything is going to happen, which leaves me free to wander about in search of food. The choices are as varied as one would expect to find at the state fair… pancakes on a stick, breakfast burritos, deep fried Twinkies, pizza, jumbo baked potatoes, turkey drumsticks, cinnamon rolls, corn dogs, bloomin’ onions, roasted ears of corn, funnel cakes, pretzels, gyros, nachos, tacos, caramel apple chips, dippin’ dots, and of course, “Wisconsin fried cheese curds.”

Sunday morning I ended up wandering into the media tent where I gathered my breakfast of a cup of hot chocolate, a breakfast burrito, a donut and a Crown and Sierra Mist. Unfortunately, I must report that the only Coke product that I’ve seen in the entire park is the clock on the wall inside the Freelance West Video trailer.

Food isn’t the only thing for sale at the balloon fiesta. I suspect (and hope) that they have assembled what must be the single largest marketplace for balloon related merchandise on this side of the sun. If you want balloon-themed hats, pins, posters, videos, sunglasses, wind chimes, sun catchers, wood roses, books, photos, calendars, post cards, ceramics, scrapbook kits, candles, Russian nesting dolls, or even quilts, come on down to the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta! Heck, they even have strolling disposable Kodak camera vendors that also carry extra smart media cards and batteries for the digital crowd.

Color me cautious, but balloons and pins seems a most curious combo!

I’m not sure if I am going to be able to get any decent photographs of balloons launching or setting up for the evening glows since I am scheduled to shoot video during pretty much every event. Besides, there are TONS of those types of photos available online- just a Google away.

I find it interesting when I return to the balloon park in the late afternoon for an evening event and discover that the balloon field has been taken over by a throng of amateur kite enthusiasts. They don’t seem to mind the wind that threatens each and every hot air and gas balloon event.

I directed my first video production Saturday night. It was a two-hour concert by “Get Back,” a Beetles tribute band that included the original cast of “Beatlemania.” I basically sat inside a large video/audio truck and called for various shots from the camera operators, then punched them up on the giant video screen- every so often mixing in a kool special effect. It was very fun. I will also be directing during the Marty Stuart concert Thursday afternoon, and a few of the balloon events.

screwed

2006-10-06T03:00:00.003-06:00

The working title for this post was "Lessons Learned," but I decided that this one was, well... sexier.

Having already cut my cementboard and laid it out in the room to make sure it would fit properly, I set out last night to install the 1/4-inch-thick panels one at a time. First I mixed up a supply of thin-set, re-explained the ground rules to both cats, popped a beer, cranked some Supertramp, and began applying the mortar to the floor. After carefully setting the first panel, I climbed on top to begin driving my Superiorbilt 1-1/4" backerboard screws. I initially set a screw by tapping the tip into the cementboard with a hammer, then driving it home with my 18-volt Black & Decker Firestorm drill/driver. Just as the flat screw head approached the surface of the cementboard... SNAP!... busted the tip off my driver bit. Not good!

Luckily, I had more bits that came with my RYBOI drill. Unfortunately, they didn't fare a heck of a lot better. I ended up breaking each of the eight driver bits I had, yet had failed to drive all the screws I needed to secure even the first panel. Of course by that time it was too late to make a run to Lowe's (but only because they still haven't issued me my own key). Unable to continue with that particular task, I took the remaining mortar outside and applied it to the surface of the adobe blocks that form one of my raised garden beds. Not exactly what it was made for, but at least it wasn't a complete waste, as it will help deter erosion.

Made a quick hardware run today and picked up the following: a six-pack of DeWalt double headed #2 bits, a six-pack of 1-inch Bosch titanium #2 screwdriving bits and a three-pack of 2-inch Bosch titanium #2 screwdriving bits that fit into the keyless chuck portion of my driver. I figured that if I couldn’t get the job done with all these, that I would finish up using a sledgehammer (even though that would require yet another trip to Lowe’s). As it turned out, I was able to drive all remaining screws (150+) using a single Bosch titanium bit. Afterwards, that bit looked nearly as good as the other two that are still in the package.

Lesson learned: Don't attempt projects similar to mine with crappy tools or materials. It will only lead to frustration and extra trips to the hardware store.

Another example of the same lesson was this plastic three-sided taping knife I bought (featuring a 4-inch, 6-inch, and 10-inch blades) for the dry walling portion of the project. This hunk of junk wasn't worth the time I wasted patting myself on the back for the money I had saved by not purchasing the recommended metal taping knives. I picked those up the day after I broke the cheap plastic one, and they made the job much easier.

At any rate, I have now have the entire floor covered with backerboard, and the seams have been taped and mortared (although I hadn't gotten that done when I took these photos). I don't anticipate actually beginning to set the tile until after the balloon festival wraps up on the 15th. I also recently picked up a pair of hard shell kneepads to ensure that I don't aggravate an old Nerf football injury.

I utilized a Vaughan double-edged (medium rip cut / extra fine cross cut) Bear Saw to remove a half-inch from the bottom of the doorframe and door to accommodate the cementboard, tile and layers of thin-set.

In other news, I have ordered the new tub hardware and have begun looking into options for the threshold transition and baseboard molding. I will definitely not be installing vinyl floor/wall liner similar to the crap that I ripped out. Instead, I am leaning towards a Victorian-style wood trim along the floor, although straight and simple may win out in the spirit of making it as easy as possible to keep clean.

nertzed

2006-10-04T04:01:00.000-06:00

Just when I think I can’t put off tackling the floor much longer, new challenges and opportunities present themselves. Before I could layout the Hardibacker cement boards so I could make the cuts I would need for complete coverage, I thought I should remove the remaining bathtub plumbing fixtures (water supply lines and drain connection) to make measuring as simple and accurate as possible. Unable to get the drain to pop up through the floor resulted in another excursion into the crawlspace so I could unhook the drain where it connected with the pvc line.

A reader recently asked me if I have any help on this project. Well, I guess it all depends on your definition of help. If you consider the following photo as evidence of “help,” then yes, I have more than I need.

Actually, I am getting a bunch of help via emails and calls from readers who have tips or general encouragement to keep the work moving along.

Another potential issue is the copper pipe that serves as the cold water supply to the tub. After loosening the uppermost nut with my handy pipe wrench and removing the supply line, I noticed that the pipe appears to be busted. I mean, it isn’t an even edge at all, and I can’t imagine that that is how it is “supposed” to look. The hot water supply line on the other hand is quite smooth. (You can’t tell in the photo because I have it taped off to prevent debris from falling into the opening.) Man, I really don’t want to call in a plumber at this point, but I may end up having to do so.

At least I can now make my cuts in the cement board and get that installed. Oh, now I remember what else I wanted to mention. To lay tile near the door jamb, I assume the proper way to do it is to saw about a half-inch off the bottom of the jamb in order to lay the cement board and tile and thinset under it- rather than say, cutting tiles to fit around the bottom of the jamb. If I did that, I would be screwed in the future if I ever needed to remove the door. RIGHT?

old is new once again

2006-10-03T02:42:00.000-06:00

It is difficult to wrap my head around the notion that summer is gone and that the regular baseball season has ended. But I see the trees turning yellow and dropping their leaves, indicating it is time for us to bundle up and prepare for the singing of the plump lady.

Since the playoffs start today, I need to announce my post-season predictions. Bad news for Tigers and Padres fans… I’m picking your teams for the World Series- with Detroit winning in seven games.

I recently picked up a pack of the 2006 Topps “Allen & Ginter” baseball cards. I’m not sure what I was expecting when I opened it, other than I thought it was a neat idea to attempt to recreate some of the magic of the first real baseball cards that were available with tobacco products way back in 1887 (before many of you were born). These cards totally blew my mind!

Although there were only 10 baseball cards included in the 1887 set that also included six other sports, Topps has issued a set of 350 cards (318 ballplayers including reprints of the original 10 cards, 7 non-sport superstars and 25 historical figures including the likes of Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne). In addition to the normal “base set,” Topps has also produced a variety of parallel sets including mini cards that mimic of the original cards that measured only 2.75 by 1.5 inches (pictured below).

Not only is the artwork inspiring, but the white backgrounds and non-glossy finishes are ideal for autograph collectors. These gorgeous cards are perfect for baseball fans that have an appreciation for history. Topps hit this one completely out of the park! Although I’ve only opened the single pack, I can already tell that this set is going to compete with my all-time favorite… the 1975 Topps set. I think it would have been an interesting experiment if Topps had slipped a single cigarette into every pack similar to when they used to include “bubble gum.” Of course, maybe that’s one reason I don’t work for Topps.

Oh, so speaking of baseball and history, I was recently honored by being named an associate producer of research for a documentary about the history of baseball in Albuquerque. The production is scheduled for airing on PBS in the summer of 2007-ideally the week of the minor league all-star game that is being held at Isotopes Park. Needless to say, I’m stoked to get to the library and history museum to make the dust fly while working on my contribution. I’m sure to be writing more about that as it happens.

Similarly, I just received confirmation that a number of my still photographs of Isotopes utility infielder Tony Schrager will appear in an independent documentary about minor league baseball. According to Tony Okun, the film’s producer/director, the target date for completion of that project is September 2008. I urge you to bookmark oh! show productions’ website and monitor it for news about the movie.

I won’t include any of those photos here, so you’ll have to watch the movie to see them. However, I can’t help including this photo I snapped of Tony signing autographs for little leaguers prior to an Isotopes game back in August. You can’t make out much of Schrager, but the expression on this kid’s face is fantastic!

renovation blues

2006-10-02T16:05:00.000-06:00

After the primer dried, I applied two coats of “bistro white” American Tradition Signature paint to the ceiling. At the very least, the ceiling will be a millimeter closer to the floor in the event that I ever have to paint it again.

After the ceiling was good and dry, I taped off the margins and started on the walls. The color for the walls is “coventry blue.” Again, I went with the eggshell finish as it is supposed to help hide mistakes. I would say that the paint was very forgiving, and the screw-ups that it couldn’t cover can probably be hidden via some creative picture hanging.

For those of you concerned that both our living room and my office are also shades of blue, fear not- the plan is that they won’t remain anything close to blue (at some point in the future).

I also installed a new sconce on the wall above the invisible sink and vanity and hung a new chandelier. The trick to hanging a chandelier if you haven’t had the pleasure, is to dangle it nearby using a wire hanger while you connect the wires, disconnect them, reconnect them, then disconnect them and run the wires correctly and reconnect them… well, you get the idea. Using the hanger makes a two-person job into a single person task that allows one to curse as much as they please.

Comparing the new walls to the crappy weathered window resulted in the determination that I also needed to scrape, sand and repaint it as well. I’m definitely not interested in getting into the stripping of the window and this point, so it will remain one of the few painted windows in the original part of the house. I've got a good start on that. At least it will look nice when I'm done.

in a white room with no curtains

2006-09-30T05:41:00.000-06:00

Now that I have the walls covered with primer, the bathroom makes me think of the Cream song “White Room” – a smash single off their 1968 album Wheels of Fire. I’ve heard a ton of ideas what that song was “about,” ranging from drug use to the Vietnam Police Action. I prefer to believe Pete Brown’s explanation that it was simply about his new apartment.

Regardless of its origin, the tune is a shining example of a missed opportunity. Let me explain…

I recently compiled a mix cd for a buddy who is/was wrestling with the notion of pursuing his boyhood dream of becoming a train engineer. The theme of the cd was simply TRAINS. “White Room” would have blended nicely into one of several places on the cd, but as I explained to one of my college roommates (whom I sent a copy of the disc for editorial review) after he busted me for not including Rickie Lee Jones’ “Ghost Train,” there simply wasn’t enough room to include everything I wanted. Incidentally, I also failed to include “Night Train” or “Woody and Dutch on the Slow Train to Peking” – excellent Jones offerings from 1979 and 1981 respectively.

First, a word about the cover art, then I will include a list of the songs that made the cut. The main image is an iconic photo by O. Winston Link entitled “Hot Shot Eastbound.” In the original Link photo, the drive-in screen has a jet plane on it that serves as the exclamation point for an overall fun image. I replaced that portion of the image with a scene from the classic film Runaway Train to make it even more fun, if not completely obscure. If you’ve never seen Runaway Train, the film is capable of making you shiver on the hottest summer night, making it the perfect rental the next time your air conditioner (or evaporative cooler) isn’t doing the trick.

Okay, That’s Not My Harmonica includes the following:

Train Train – Blackfoot
Forever Changed – Lou Reed & John Cale
Mystery Train – Bob Welch
Orange Blossom Special – Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs
Driver 8 – REM
It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry – Bob Dylan
Train in the Distance – Paul Simon
Waiting for a Train – Boz Scaggs
Peace Train – 10,000 Maniacs
King of the Road – Roger Miller
Midnight Flyer – The Eagles
Riding on a Railroad – James Taylor
Train of Love – Johnny Ca$h
Silverton Train – C.W. McCall
(Waiting for the) Ghost Train – Madness
Homeward Bound (live) – Paul Simon & George Harrison
Crazy Train (live) – Ozzy Osbourne
Electric Trains – Squeeze
Casey Jones – Warren Zevon & David Lindley
Foggy Mountain Breakdown - Lester Flatt & Earl Scruggs
Downtown Train – Tom Waits
Another Song About a Train – Terrapin Isle
Last Train to Clarksville – The Monkees

As far as I know, I am the first person to attempt a mix cd that contains both Boz Scaggs AND Earl Scruggs. I think it works.

joy in mudville

2006-09-29T04:36:00.000-06:00

I finally finished applying joint compound to the drywall. I actually had completed the third coat the day before, but it had some severe cosmetic issues. I didn’t care for the way it looked at all, until I got busy with a sanding screen. Even though using the screen to knock down all the bumps and ridges made all the difference in the world, I also gave the walls a once over with a wet sponge. The sponge allowed me to really smooth out most areas. After stepping back and inspecting my work, I decided to go back and add more mud to the joints where my drywall met the existing wall at 8 feet above the floor. Although it added a full day to the project (mostly drying time), I decided it was the best approach. Otherwise, every time I sat on the throne in the future, I would have to look at the lousy job I had done.

A quick word to any reader who happens to write or edit “do it yourself” books or websites- the rest of you can skip down to the next paragraph. Please stop suggesting that using a wet sponge will prevent the creation of dust. Sure, it creates less dust than sandpaper or a sanding screen or a sand storm, and perhaps that dust is somewhat damp, but it still creates a mess that will have to be cleaned up pretty much immediately.

While waiting for the final sections of wet joint compound to dry so I could sand them, I decided to begin priming the ceiling. I used the remainder of the stain blocking primer I had left over from the bedroom painting as a first coat. I intend to use the same “new construction” primer that I apply to the drywall as a second coat for consistency. I’m not sure if I will have to add a third coat of primer to the ceiling since I am going from a mottled navy blue and smoker’s white to a plain, “bistro” white. I’m also going from a disgusting semi-gloss ceiling to an eggshell finish so I am prepared for some coverage issues.

Switching gears… tonight I killed the largest black widow I have ever seen. It was outside “hiding” under the faucet that controls the garden hose. I guess she was hunting for gardeners. Over all, I saw significantly fewer black widows this year (a couple dozen) than the previous year (when I was killing up to 15-20 per night). I attribute the lower density to the fact that the house and two garages next door hadn’t just been gutted, and also because I had filled in all the crevasses and voids in the adobe brick garden beds with wet adobe- thereby removing a vast majority of their potential habitat. On the other hand, perhaps they have simply improved their ability to remain undetected.

I’ve also been noticing a higher population of praying mantids. This time of year appears to be their mating season, and they tend to congregate near the floodlights on the side of the house and garage where they can eat moths as long as they want. So far, only one male mantid has ventured into the house- via the open bathroom window. When I asked if he had been reading my blog he quietly cocked his head to one side and stared at me as if I was crazy.

down in the dumps

2006-09-26T15:48:00.000-06:00

So I’m sitting here in my group W office chair waiting for the second coat of joint compound to dry. I figure I have time to compose a progress report before I apply the third (and hopefully final) coat.

Obviously I got all the drywall up. I used regular ½-inch panels across the majority of the room, but installed special water-resistant (not to be confused with “water-proof”) “aquablocker” board in the areas adjacent to the where the tub and sink will live.

I recently made a quick trip to Home Depot for one last sheet of drywall I required to finish up. I needed to have it cut in half, so I rounded up a likely candidate– i.e., the nearest “orange vest” who had a utility knife dangling from his belt. Let me tell you, this clown seemed determined on putting the “Ass” back in Associate.

“We don’t cut drywall,” he proclaimed while standing on a low mound of drywall remnants.

“You don’t cut drywall?” I replied, “Okay, I’ll go to Lowe’s.”

And with those magic words, the kid sprung into action and scored the drywall panel so we could snap it more or less in half. I’m not sure if he was just a slacker, or if it is Home Depot’s policy to try to get customers to buy utility knives that they don’t really need. Nevertheless, I keep saying that I won’t go back there, yet I do because they are about 2.3 miles closer than Lowe’s.

Over the weekend, I hauled a truckload of bathroom debris to the local solid waste plant. That is a very interesting place, but I wouldn’t want to work there. The dump has large signs posted at the entry indicating that they don’t accept construction materials, but I don’t think my old drywall and tiles counted given that they technically were destruction materials. It is really fun to back the truck up to the edge of this concrete pit and toss things into a heap while a backhoe operator waits to shove it into different piles. I also took advantage of the opportunity to unload a number of large cardboard boxes that I had filled with nasty weeds from the garden and alley. To be sure, utilization of the dump is a bargain at only $3.60 per load.

As for the renovation, lighting has been selected and purchased. I have examined both the ceiling light and wall sconce, and am about 97 percent certain they will work fine.

I’ve also been refurbishing an old wooden medicine cabinet, converting it into a simple shelf unit that will be set into the north wall of the room. I believe I have a photo that illustrates where that will go.

If progress continues without setbacks, I should have the walls sanded and primed by the end of the Major League Baseball regular season.

news from the front

2006-09-21T04:03:00.000-06:00

Day um… aw heck, I’ve lost track already. At any rate, I don’t think I’m going to set any records for my bathroom renovation project. I have about half of the drywall up now, and have roughed in some support for a shelf that I will be installing into the north wall.

My befuddlement as to why the porch light stops working when I flip the circuit breaker that controls the majority of the bathroom had me once again rooting around in the crawlspace under the western portion of the house. I imagine the web of cables would make sense to the spider that ran them, or perhaps even to a professional electrician- but not so much to me.

I found another interesting artifact in the dirt worth mentioning. It is nearly a page and a half of the Albuquerque Tribune dated September 22, 1944 (that makes it 62 years old tomorrow). It is pretty kool- especially the funny ads for everyday items. It contains part of an article about allied troops taking an important bridge, an obituary for a local boy killed in action in France, a 50th wedding anniversary announcement, and part of the Major League Baseball standings (which I found particularly interesting).

The paper fragment contains all kinds of intriguing information, but I decided that I would have to save it to read at a later date, as I needed to get back to work on the bathroom. I did replace the regular old outlet with a brand new GFCI receptacle in order to check off the first item from the electrical “to do” list.

Then I took a deep breath and pulled out the double light switches on the north wall that control the ceiling light, sconce light, fan and wall heater. What a tangled mess! It didn’t look like what I was expecting, so I took some time and consulted my reference books and a few electrical websites. Half a bag of candy corn later I had formulated my plan of attack.

Everything went well, and I actually had one piece of wire left over. Great Bill Schmidt’s ghost! Someone had taken a strip of bare copper wire and run it between both live terminals on one of the switches. After I figured out that they had done so in order to use it in the manner of a brand new switch that hadn’t had that little copper plate broken off, I felt relieved. Surely that isn’t the best way to have done it.

On a roll, I ripped out the old rough in can for the crap wall heater and had the replacement one installed, wired and operating in just over two hours. Not bad at all!

Now I have more drywall to hang, and it is time to select the lighting.

electric SHOCK

2006-09-18T03:30:00.000-06:00

No, this entry isn’t about the ongoing bathroom renovation, but rather the Lou Reed concert in Santa Fe on September 16th. The intimate, open-air John Crosby Theater at the Santa Fe Opera is a fantastic venue. A Lou Reed show can be a life-altering experience. You better believe it man, its true!

Several years ago, I made the mistake of listening to Lou’s "Magic & Loss" album while driving to my grandmother’s funeral. What seemed like a good idea at the time, actually backfired and resulted in me finding that cd practically unplayable. Hoping to change the personal attachment I have to the album, I decided to give it another try while driving from Albuquerque to the concert. Perhaps one of the best features of the Santa Fe Opera is that you are able to get to it via NM Route 599, the Santa Fe Relief Route, so you don’t have to deal with the tourist trap of a city itself.

Arriving at the theater some 40-45 minutes prior to the gates opening afforded the opportunity to listen to the sound check. Lou’s band started the tune What’s Good (interestingly, from the aforementioned “Magic & Loss” album) at least a dozen times as technicians worked on getting the sound just right. The sound check continued after the gates opened, and after obtaining a glass of wine, we wondered around the plaza area until discovering a small area where we could stand and see the stage simply by blocking the setting sun from our eyes with our hands.

While Lou recited some poetry between sips of Diet Coke, the band continued working on the beginning of What’s Good. Just prior to the band leaving the stage, Lou spoke into the microphone “How’s that sound Frank? Not too lifeless?” Soon after that, people were allowed access to their seats in the theater. We continued walking about on the plaza and looking at people. The majority of people wore black, and plenty of it. Still there was enough turquoise to remind you that you were no longer in the real world, and enough cowboy hats to suggest that you were either in the southwest, or at an extras casting call for a remake of Midnight Cowboy.

Once it was dark outside, the house lights were dimmed and the stage lights brightened. There would be no messing around with an opening act of any type. A roar from the crowd greeted Lou as he walked onto the stage with his band mates. Lou wore faded blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a light grey Unabomber-style hooded sweatshirt. He also was sporting a necklace with a red chile pepper pendant. (Um, did I mention that we were in the ninth row? And by the way, 50 bonus points to anyone who can explain why the opera doesn’t have a row “i.”)

Mike Rathke joined Lou on guitar. An energetic Fernando Saunders played bass and Rob Wasserman was on hand to play upright bass. Encased in a Plexiglas shell not unlike to the Popemobile, drummer Tony “Thunder” Smith served as the group’s beating heart, forcing the haunting sounds created by the four guitars to course through the veins of everyone in attendance. The combination helped prepare our brains to receive Reed’s lyrics which were dispensed as if by a pharmacist who suspects the recipients are being overmedicated, but also realizes that there is a 95 percent chance that they will survive the experience.

They opened with Dorita, the ghostly instrumental that is the first track on "Magic & Loss," transitioning seamlessly into What’s Good. Both were amazing! I guess I could say that about every song, so let’s just agree that you will assume that as you continue reading.

Lou’s delivery of my favorite line from the next song, The Proposition, “you won't see my parents honored on any stamp,” alone was worth the price of admission. As the band changed instruments following the third tune, Lou took a moment to chat with the audience. He said, “People ask me, “Have you ever played in an opera house before?” … Yeah, I’ve played in lots of bars. … (pause) … It’s good, but it’s not meant for electric.” They then proceeded to crack the adobe with an earth-shattering rendition of Egg Cream.

The lighting was minimal at best. The contrast between Lou’s metallic blue guitar and the red light that bathed the band during Ecstasy was sublime. It was incredible to watch how Lou directed the band and how well they responded. Fernando Saunders performed as if Ecstasy might very well be the last song he ever played.

Of course it wasn’t. Saunders was right there as the band shifted gears and turned onto the Dirty Boulevard. Leave it to Lou to make you feel great by forcing you to realize how lucky you are to not be a subject of one of his songs. Reed is forever tinkering with his tunes until he gets them just right. In this case, he delivered this modified portion of the third verse while shaking his head.

“You can believe it man its true
Somewhere a president’s laughing till he wets his pants
But this song is from 1989
And look at us today”

Not wanting to wet my own pants, I made a dash for the restroom instead of applauding at the end of Dirty Boulevard. I actually made it to an open urinal before I heard the muffled first notes of Waiting for My Man. While I relieved myself of a bladder full of grape juice, I realized that the restroom air-freshener was pot scented. As I washed my hands I observed that there were so many black leather jackets about that one could easily mistake the gathering for a Sweat Hogs reunion. I made it back to my seat well before Lou took the audience up three flights of stairs of a Brownstone for a taste.

Next, we were subjected to Lou’s interpretation of The Raven that I suspect would manage to scare the Poe out of old Edgar Allan himself. I regret that I am unable to string the right words together to describe the pure energy that cascaded over the edge of the stage and washed through the audience during that number. It made me realize that critics of Reed’s double album that includes The Raven are missing out on some of his best work by shunning the effort. Too bad for them!

Reed switched over to a candy apple red guitar for Coney Island Baby. The decision to play that song next was genius. It begins so mellow and builds to a point where you think something on stage is going to explode. It was near the end of Coney Island Baby when Lou had his first true one-on-one jam session with Rathke. Oh man, let me tell you this… Mike Rathke was playing his nuts off. It was so insane that I saw Lou smile. I swear!

I think it was a common feeling among the audience that each member of the band truly seemed to be excited to be performing with Reed. I don’t even think they were all that concerned about the audience. During several points in the evening, Lou would sort of well… get all caught up in the moment and begin screaming into the microphone. The veins in his neck appeared to be on the verge of bursting. Rathke, Saunders and Smith would exchange looks and laugh with each other, having more fun than the Harlem Globetrotters while running up the score against the hapless Washington Generals. Although considerably less animated, Wasserman also appeared to be having a great time.

After the standing ovation that followed Coney Island Baby, Lou returned to the microphone and said, “Thank you. We have to slow down now… Maybe for a month.” After another round of applause, he added, “But we won’t. Because we came here to play for YOU.” God I love Lou! Even though he said it in that classic tone that indicates that he knows that you know he is bullshitting you, you still want to believe that it is true. The joke is on everyone.

Next they performed Guardian Angel, another tune from "The Raven." It was great, but I had been hoping they would play Riptide, which they had performed in concert in New York 4 nights before.

Dreamin’ was next. Another selection from "Magic & Loss" that Lou dedicated to his friend Rita and his other friend Doc in which he mocks death by stating, “you were no saint, but you deserved better than that.” Seeing him perform such an amazingly personal and sad song definitely made me appreciate that album again to the point that it will be returned to the rotation.

The final song of the set was the ever-rockin’ Set the Twilight Reeling. This performance would get the audience up on their feet and dancing, and prevented them from sitting back down through the double encore that included Sweet Jane and Perfect Day. After playing for over two hours, Lou seemed nearly exhausted as he waved and exited the stage. Maybe that’s the price one pays when they invade.

electric avenue

2006-09-15T03:16:00.000-06:00

Here are some snapshots of the electrical outlet I mentioned that needs replaced with a GFCI receptacle. Although the outlet is located in the bathroom, it appears to be an “end-of-the-run” receptacle for the circuit that powers the adjacent bedroom to the east.

Another oddity about the way the house is wired is that when I flip the breaker for the bathroom circuit, it also kills the power to my wife’s office (located in the 1920s addition).

I also read somewhere that you should never cover electrical boxes with walls in case they have to be accessed for one reason or another. That leaves me scratching my head trying to decide what I should do with the junction box I uncovered in the wall above the quad electrical switch next to the door on the north wall.

Moving clockwise from the upper left, these switches control the ceiling light, bathroom fan, wall heater and wall sconce respectively.

I guess my options are to either move it up to the wall and cover it with a solid plate cover, or just bury it behind drywall again.

the empty room

2006-09-13T02:05:00.000-06:00

day five?

Not much new to report, and I’m busy designing a website for a client, so this entry is going to be short.

I got the claw foot tub out of the room today. It is currently located in the far reaches of the living room hidden under a sleeping bag. Kancun is utilizing the cover as a fort to rest up and launch surprise attacks on the unsuspecting shop.vac.

Now that the bathroom is finally empty, I was able to determine that the floor is indeed level. Sheets of ¼ inch Hardibacker cement backerboard have been purchased, although they won’t be installed until after I’ve completed the work on the walls.

While cleaning up the old electric space heater that was built into the lower portion of the west wall, I decided that it was junk, and probably not worth reinstalling. Will now look into alternatives for that while selecting lighting.

I also discovered that the single electrical outlet in the room was only “attached” to drywall. Since it is located next to the sink, I think it really should be replaced with one of those fancy GFCI dealies. I am fearful of messing with electricity, but I might as well start figuring it out now. I suppose I will also want to replace the light switches so they match the other changes.

Okay, I really need to get back to work on the website since the client wishes to launch it within the next couple of weeks.

the unbathroom

2006-09-12T03:20:00.001-06:00

Since some of you crazies have been emailing for specifics about the flooring, here are a few detail photos.

The present “subfloor” is the original 1906 hardwood flooring. The house didn’t have true subflooring (nor did the house next door which was nearly identical in construction). There appears to be two layers of plywood/particle board over that. The lowest layer measures about ½” thick, and the upper layer is about 3/8” thick. Stuck to that is the sheet linoleum that gives the cats nightmares.

It is interesting how many different opinions have surfaced on how I should approach tiling the floor. They range from ripping it all up and starting from scratch, to tiling directly over it, and include various middle ground suggestions of securing backer board over the linoleum and going from there to leaving it as is and trying to enjoy the linoleum. Some have even suggested that this whole concept of blogging about my home improvement project is boring.

I did encounter an interesting surprise while removing the remainder of the drywall. Sorry, no mint condition historic circus posters to sell on eBay, but rather these two empty Like cola soda cans.

A little research on the internet suggests that Like cola was the diet version of 7Up, that appeared on the market in 1963. Although one would suspect it was no longer being manufactured once Sugar-Free 7Up began being distributed in 1970, these cans exhibit “stay-tabs” on the top, which weren’t introduced until 1975. Thus these relics appear to date back to the “Uncola” period of pre-9/11 Americana.

I suspect Michael Rock left the cans in the wall… perhaps as offerings to appease the wandering, thirtsy ghost of Isaac the Butcher. As I understand it, Rock was a sort of architectural historian who helped document the surrounding neighborhood in order to earn its well-deserved listing in the National Register of Historic Properties. According to archival records, Michael and his wife Dora purchased the property in 1975.

Photo of Michael Rock taken on the front stoop in January of 1980.

This photo illustrates the location of the missing door that used to connect the bathroom to the bedroom that now serves as my office.

another lathe in the wall

2006-09-11T02:25:00.001-06:00

Amazing what you can do with a pipe wrench! The tub is finally unhooked and the tacky brass hardware has been removed and tossed into the yard. Funny how much larger the 6’ by 9’ room seems now even with the tub still in it. It is the only fixture still left in the bathroom. Now I have to figure out the best method of moving it to a good location for cleaning and painting.

After a considerable amount of effort, I was able to remove the remaining tiles and backing board from the lower wall behind the baseboard heating unit. What royal pain that was with the cramped work space and lack of leverage, but I couldn’t see any way of taking it apart (short of cutting the copper pipe which I wanted no part of). In fact, I now have all the walls stripped to 5 feet above the floor. I have removed the trim from the inside of the door and window, but likely will have to remove a bit more trim as I am planning on taking the walls off all the way to 8 feet tomorrow.

The replacement sink, vanity and toilet have all been purchased and transported home. While I take a break from the work to snap some documentary photographs, my assistant studies the area where the new sink eventually will be installed.

Also have picked up ceramic tile for the floor and a bunch of tools. Since no museums seem interested in my proposed donation of the linoleum due to the possible hazardous nature of the material, the plan now is to lay the tile directly onto the existing surface. I plan on doing that after I get the walls in place and painted. The new color scheme has been chosen, but no paint has been purchased.

I just realized that I’m probably going to have to shave the bottom off the door trim and quite probably, the door itself. So I’m either going to need a saw, or some very well trained termites. I suppose that as long as I'm creating a shopping list, I should also pick up a shop-vac.

I have yet to address any lighting issues. We better get back to work.

day two… what have I gotten myself into?

2006-09-10T01:41:00.000-06:00

First surprise- the tiles didn’t pop neatly off the walls like I had hoped. Will have to remove the walls down to the studs and eventually hang new drywall. I wonder from the number of nails I’m finding as I remove the walls if the country didn’t experience a nail shortage in the early 80s when the plaster and lathe was removed from this portion of the house.

I’m planning on only removing the lowest 5 feet of wall, but can already see that I may have to change that approach and remove the lowest 8 feet to get a clean break between existing panels of drywall. Besides, I’m not sure how good I’m going to be at masking and plastering the gaps, so I may want any unseemly seams 8 feet high instead of near eye level.

I have turned off the water and located the circuit breaker to shut off power in the project room. Got the sink unhooked and the toilet removed completely. Can already tell that unhooking the claw foot bathtub is going to be a cast iron bastard. Another issue that I hadn’t thought about was the existing baseboard heat. The unit appears to have both dry wall and tile behind it, and I don’t see any obvious way to disassemble it. Maybe it will make more sense once I get the tub moved out of the way. Quite possibly it will make less.

I have removed all artwork from the project area with exception of a ceramic skeleton man who expressed an interest in being allowed to hang around as long as possible as the tunes are rather delightful. You may wonder what I consider a good choice of music to demolish walls to. I highly recommend the Cars.

Seriously! I recently reacquainted myself with their first album “The Cars” during a road trip to Arizona. I had forgotten just how good that record is from Good Times Roll right though to All Mixed Up- each song amazingly better than the one before. I dare you to listen to Moving in Stereo without thinking about the film Fast Times at Ridgemont High. So after letting that run through several times, I switched over to another classic- “Candy-O.” Wow! I can’t even pick a favorite…. Let’s Go, It’s All I Can Do, Double Life, Candy-O, Lust for Kicks, Dangerous Type. They all rock! Even the Cars 1981 offering, “Shake it Up,” belongs in any jukebox or home cd collection.

I need a friggin’ pipe wrench and a larger trash container, and the State Fair has opened which means the ponies are running. (Note: I will bet on any horse named “Corn Dog.”)

renovations

2006-09-08T13:51:00.001-06:00

One of my chores now that baseball has ended (locally), is to remodel the bathroom in the original portion of our house. Not that it is in bad condition, but we just feel that it isn’t dated enough for a structure that was built in 1906.

The plan is to untile the walls, remove the linoleum from the floor and donate it to a museum, tile the floor, repaint the bathtub in keeping with the new color scheme, replace the “fixtures,” and deal with whatever surprises pop up.

And so it begins….

Day One – Got a good start on the project by taking all the “before” photographs. As illustrated in these photos, I’m going to have plenty of help on this project.

I think I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Or is that merely the reflection of my camera’s flash? Either way, it’s clearly time to grab a beer and plan the next phase.

new sensations

2006-09-07T03:07:00.000-06:00

When it rains in New Mexico, it pours. No, I’m not talking about the weather, but rather the concert scene.

Following directly on the heels of the previously blogged DEVO concert, I find in my hands a pair of tickets to see Lou Reed perform at the Santa Fe Opera on the 16th. While there are very few things that could convince me to make the drive to Santa Fe, one of them is definitely Lou.

Although I wouldn’t presume to guess what Lou might decide to perform that evening, I am intrigued by recent mumblings that insist he is going to be performing his Berlin album live for the very first time in New York this December. Perhaps we’ll be treated to a preview of that! You never know what you’ll get with Lou though… perhaps a reading of the graphic version of Paul Auster’s City of Glass.

If I were given an opportunity to request one song, it would be Crazy Feeling, my favorite tune on Coney Island Baby. I would be tempted to request Street Hassle, but suspect the majority of the audience would want to beat me up afterwards. Of course, a request for Lou to perform Skynard’s Freebird would also be very funny (to me).

At any rate, you can bet your shiny, shiny, shiny boots of leather that I will have plenty to write about following the concert.

practically joking

2006-08-30T02:07:00.000-06:00

There’s really never a dull moment at the ballpark. For instance, here’s a photo I snapped of Albuquerque Isotopes outfielder Matt Cepicky ambushing catcher Nick Trzesniak with a jolt of ice water during batting practice Tuesday afternoon. Trzesniak would end up going 1 for 3 with a walk and an RBI during the game later that evening in which the Isotopes defeated the Nashville Sounds by a score of 7 to 2.

I enjoy the spirit Cepicky adds to the team chemistry. One of his game day routines is to bop around the Isotopes dugout immediately prior to the singing of the National Anthem placing smelling salts under the nose of anyone who fails to see him approaching… players, coaches, trainers, event staff, and yes, even camera operators. Matt always adds intriguing explanations for his actions- my favorite being, “This’ll help ya stay focused.”

I recently asked Matt what his plans for the off-season included. He replied that he would be undergoing knee surgery and rehab. No doubt Trzesniak will be spending his winter thinking of ways to get even with Cepicky for the water assault.

space junk 101

2006-08-25T11:34:00.000-06:00

Did you feel the ground shaking along the Rio Grande Valley around 9:00 o’clock Thursday evening and wonder if the sky was falling, or perhaps that the region was experiencing an earthquake? If so, you weren’t alone. You needn’t waste time looking for answers at the U.S. Geological Survey’s Earthquake Hazards Program website as they offer no data or plausible explanation. Instead, continue reading right where you are to find out what happened.

Hundreds of people of all ages were present at the epicenter of the seismic event, standing, jumping and dancing in front of the stage in the Kiva Auditorium at the Albuquerque Convention Center as the 30-year-old punk-wave band DEVO performed live for the first time ever in the Duke City.

The memorable evening was opened with a short set by When in Rome, a band best know for their 1988 hit The Promise that was recently reborn when it was featured at the end of the film Napoleon Dynamite.

Following a brief intermission, the Psychedelic Furs marched onto the stage, opening with Love My Way. Richard Butler served as the grand marshal for the Furs hit parade that included Heartbreak Beat. Any student of 80s music would have assumed that the band would have performed Pretty in Pink before it was all said and done. Fear not… they closed their set with that number.

The remainder of the evening was pure DEVO from the lemon yellow drum set and the band’s tear-away chemical-protection suits to their cherry red plastic flower pot hats. Interestingly, when a band maintains a stage presence as gripping as DEVO’s, lighting technicians and smoke-machine operators can take a breather and enjoy the show along with everyone else. They simply aren’t needed.

A handful of obvious DEVOtees appeared to have been waiting a lifetime to see this particular concert. It seemed as if everyone lost control as the band unleashed a torrent of hit songs, including back to back to back to back to back to back to back to back performances of Girl U Want, Whip It, (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction, Uncontrollable Urge, Mongoloid, Blockhead and Jocko Homo. Undoubtedly, the regional power grid was strained as DEVO guitars, synthesizers and amplifiers greedily sucked electricity that was converted into waves of de-evolutionary messages that were sent crashing over the crowd with the force of a subliminal tsunami.

DEVO returned to the stage moments after attempting to close with a smashing rendition of Gates of Steel, and went on to rock the house with an energetic encore set that included Freedom of Choice, Wiggly World, Gut Feeling and Johnny B. Goode. For the finale, lead singer Mark Mothersbaugh donned a giant foam cowboy hat and a ridiculous Rollie Fingers mustache and bounced handfuls of nuclear green-colored super balls off the stage into the transfixed crowd. In short, it was an amazing show!

If you ever have an opportunity to see DEVO perform, even if it is another 30 years from now- jump on those tickets!

Later Spuds.

attack of the three-inch hornworms

2006-08-23T02:57:00.000-06:00

one thousand swerves

2006-08-21T17:10:00.000-06:00

don’t mess with the bull

2006-05-29T00:58:00.000-06:00

Around the end of February, a friend gave me a Paul Gleason autograph after sharing a story of how he and his wife had run into him at a baseball card show a number of years before. Not only did I find Gleason’s fondness of baseball memorabilia interesting, I also was intrigued by him having told Marty that in spite of all the acting work he had done, practically everyone still recognized him for his role as Principal Richard Vernon in The Breakfast Club. Without a doubt, I would be part of that group.

I placed the autographed index card on my bulletin board where I keep material I think blog-worthy, figuring I’d get around to discussing it in the not too distant future. Then I got busy with spring training travels and the start of the regular season, as my general lack of postings indicates. Unfortunately it would take the actor’s recent death to make me find the time to share the autograph here.

I really don’t have anything to add about the man that can’t be found online. For example, here is a great photo of Gleason hamming it up with Fred Lynn.

Prior to becoming an actor, Gleason played some minor league baseball in the Cleveland Indians organization. Definitely worth reading about is Paul’s association with former Major Leaguer Mickey McDermott. (Trust me on this link.)

Of course Paul also played the role of Cushman in the classic Seinfeld episode when George Costanza decides to do and say the opposite of everything that he normally would. And who didn’t enjoy Gleason as Clarence Beeks in the film Trading Places.

One theory is that celebrity deaths often occur in threes. Certainly the news of Paul’s passing is enough to prevent me from surfing over to any news websites for the next several days as I dread reading the next obituary.

housekleaning

2006-05-17T01:16:00.000-06:00

While leafing through a short stack of notes I had written to myself that were taking up space on my desk where I normally file my clutter, I found a list of silly phrases I overheard during Spring Training games in Arizona. I figure if I type them here, I will have a swell excuse to then visit my shredder.

Strangely enough, a question I overheard repeatedly during games was “What’s the score?” Even odder was that about half the time the person who replied also lacked a clue.

“Who’s playing?” was very popular. (shrug)

The battle cry among the faithful at Phoenix Municipal Stadium was, “Where’s Mark the Beer Guy?” (Seriously, even if you don’t click any of the other links, this one is a MUST!)

If I was given 50 cents for every time I heard “He’s only got MGD,” then “Forget THAT! I’ll wait for another vendor,” it would nearly have covered the price of a frosty beverage for myself.

My favorite overheard discussion was highlighted by the phrase, “No, YOU shut up!” That was during an exchange between a group of rowdy college-age kids and a woman sitting behind them in a wheelchair. When the ushers stepped in to investigate, one of the kids flashed a badge and indicated that everything was under control. Amazingly, that act bought them a full half-inning before the Tempe police were summoned to sort it all out.

Finally, the most commonly uttered word in the parking lots following any of the games, was “SHOTGUN!”

Speaking of baseball, if you are interested in seeing more of my work on websites that I don’t maintain, you should check out a photograph I took of Evan MacLane during the Arizona Fall League last November that has been published as part of an article on SheaBaseball.com. A starting pitcher for the Norfolk Tides, MacLane was recently named the International League’s pitcher of the week.

toy story - 2006

2006-05-16T11:13:00.000-06:00

Of the many interesting items I observed in the garden this past week (dozens of newly hatched praying mantids, the first ripening strawberries of the season, my apparent conquering of three hills of vicious ants I’ve been battling for more than a year, loofa sponge seedlings poking up through the ground in the morning glory patch), none are as intriguing as this curious little find…

After brushing off enough dirt to realize that the tiny horseman was made from lead (and not stone), the first thing that popped into my brain was the late 1960s tune “One Tin Soldier.” Then I flipped the toy over to count the rider’s legs in order to determine if he was the resurrected nameless character from Hans Christian Anderson’s “The Steadfast Tin Soldier” (1838).

He isn’t.

I haven’t decided if this guy is really a soldier, some sort of knight or royalty, or just a dandy out for a Sunday ride. Perhaps it represents Paul Revere? Only the most brilliant scholars will scoff at my notion that the figurine is actually of the famously unknown Hessian trooper who would later become legendary by haunting Sleepy Hollow, rushing off to enlist in the Revolutionary War.

What I do know is that the figurine is hollow and was mass produced. It measures 35 mm from nose to tail by 27 mm hoof to head, and is approximately 8 mm thick. The bottom portion of the horse’s right rear leg is missing- possibly having broken off when separated from the base (assuming, of course, that it once had a base). No evidence of paint remains on the item.

A few Google searches revealed that there are TONS of websites dedicated to toy soldiering, lead miniatures, plastic army men, and scale modeling of famous and imaginary battle scenes. Although one or more of these sites potentially might lead to information about my historic artifact, truth be told, the shear number of them is practically overwhelming (at least during baseball season). Thus, I have emailed photos to a few historians I know, and forwarded my request to other archaeologists who hopefully will pass along the inquiry to historical specialists they work with. Perhaps this will result in a better starting point to determine the origin of this object.

Given that the toy lacks an obvious maker’s mark, I may never figure out who manufactured it, or when. Still, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that it is one countless toys produced by Louis Marx and Company, an American company that made millions of dollars selling toys, including inexpensive ones through dime stores (such as Woolworth’s for example) since opening for business in 1919.

Your comments are encouraged. As improbable as it seems, it would be very interesting to be able to associate this item with one of the previous homeowners.

On a side note, while researching this lead figurine I tripped over a line of long-unremembered toys from my youth that caused me to laugh like Syd Barrett. Do any of you still have one or more plastic Nutty Mads figurines in your toy box?

craft work orange

2006-05-13T19:42:00.000-06:00

I thought I should add something here for a couple of reasons: A) I wouldn’t want the administrators tagging this account “inactive” and deleting all my hard work, and B) so readers will stop emailing me asking why I haven’t added anything to my blog lately.

I wish to announce that I’ve added another wacky product to the cyberworld.

If you happen to see one of these stickers on a car in front of you in traffic, I would think it safe to give them a slight tap with your car (or Hummer). Worst case… you slightly damage their rear bumper, and give them yet another excuse to draw their hot glue gun and impress you with their marksmanship.

If you must, you can purchase one or more of these stickers for yourself (or your co-workers) by following this link to my shop at CafePress. Perhaps I will get around to adding this item to my website in time for your Krismas shopping.

With my “I Gave at the Pumps” t-shirts selling like hotcakes, I can’t help but wonder just how well actual hotcakes might sell on CafePress.

By the way, I have added the Spring Training articles I wrote for XXL National Sports Daily to my website. You can download and read those articles for FREE. (Note: The articles are in the very popular .pdf format, so make sure you have the latest and greatest version of Adobe Acrobat installed on your computer before you read them.) I haven’t added any photos yet, so feel free to check back in the future if you are interested in seeing them.

Time to water the garden.

86 years

2006-02-18T03:21:00.000-07:00

More from the “Did you know” department…

It became legal for Albuquerque women to vote on February 19, 1920 when New Mexico became the 32nd state to ratify the Suffrage Amendment.

Ethel doesn’t sleep here anymore

2006-02-15T02:40:00.001-07:00

(My working title for this entry was “I Love Ethel,” but that was annoying even to me before the cyberink had begun to dry.)

Okay, so everyone knows that Vivian Vance (Ethel Mertz in the "I Love Lucy" television series) got her theatrical start in the Duke City. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that she lived in the Huning Highlands Neighborhood for the short time she was in the area. I wonder if you’ll discover anything surprising in the results of my archival research.

Born "Vivian Roberta Jones" in Cherryvale, Kansas on July 26, 1909, Vivian Vance was a founding member of the Albuquerque Little Theater after moving to the Rio Grande valley in 1928 and marrying Joseph Shearer Danneck on October 6th. According to historical documents, the Dannecks resided at 422 Coal Avenue East while Vivian performed at the KiMo Theater, portraying played a vamp in "This Thing Called Love" and a nun in "The Cradle Song."

Although the Dannecks weren’t divorced until April 20, 1931, it appears that Miss Jones was already living by herself at 409 South Arno as early as 1930. Having taken the name "Vance" as suggested by her dramatics teacher, Vivian was a fixture on the Albuquerque stage until she moved to New York in 1932. It seems that Vance also earned a little spending money by working as a saleslady at Rosenwald’s Department Store in 1931.

The Coal Street residence seems to have been demolished, yet the home at 409 Walter Street SE remains intact.

Obviously, Vivian Vance did very well for herself after leaving the region. Vance’s beloved “I Love Lucy” character “Ethel Mertz” did return to Albuquerque during season 4. “Ethel’s Home Town” (episode 113) originally aired on CBS on January 31, 1955. When the Mertzes and Ricardos visit the Duke City during that show, the locals are under the impression that Ethel is on HER way to Hollywood. Hilarity follows. One of the funniest lines is the episode is delivered by Fred Mertz (William Frawley) who declares “She’s big everywhere!”

Vivian died in Belvedere, California on August 17, 1979. As of this writing, there have been no confirmed reports of sightings of Vivian Vance’s ghost anywhere in Albuquerque.

Here’s a photo of an interesting item I discovered on the ground in front of Vance’s house on Arno. I’ll leave it up to you readers to decide if Vivian is trying to tell us anything.

duke city valentine dining

2006-02-14T15:21:00.000-07:00

Just when you think I have a timely post, you discover that I don't.

Did you know that Albuquerque’s old Tic Toc Diner, originally located at 601 Osuna Road NW from about 1947 to 2000, is now located in Lake City, Colorado? Reports indicate that this classic Valentine Diner (serial number 538) is still appreciated by all who visit it.

xxl national sports daily

2006-02-06T12:38:00.000-07:00

No doubt about it, getting a call up to the majors is a HUGE deal; even for a photojournalist.

I just found out that I have been selected by XXL National Sports Daily to cover the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim* as they prepare this March for the 2006 Major League Baseball season.

What better way to spend the final weeks before the Isotopes open the 2006 season than soaking up some rays and Cracker Jack in the Valley of the Sun while enjoying Cactus League Spring Training games? My duties will include scoring the contests, compiling game notes, conducting player interviews, writing feature articles and supplying interesting photographs for the recently launched website. You will be able to follow my take on the Angels’ progress all March via FREE downloadable .pdf files available on the XXL National Sports Daily website.

This wild assignment is a result of a connection I made during my trip to the 2005 Arizona Fall League.

town house crackers

2006-02-06T00:45:00.000-07:00

Our gang caught a giant wave over to the Town House Lounge (3911 Central Avenue NE) this past Friday evening to check out some charbroiled longhorns and ice-cold longnecks. Initially we congregated in the patio section that fronts Central Avenue where we were informed that there would be no entertainment that evening. Luckily, the waitress only meant in that section of the lounge!

Eventually we moved into the dining room portion of the restaurant where we were greeted by warm lighting softly reflecting off fantastic red Naugahyde booths that make everyone feel like Frank Sinatra. That said, the room belonged to one of Albuquerque’s hardest working entertainers, the iconic Freddie (Kekaulike) Baker.

If you know in advance that you are going to see Freddie perform, it would serve you well to be prepared to join Mrs. Baker as her husband dives into Tiny Bubbles. If you fight her, she’ll only make your life difficult.

Service was first-rate, while the food was both delicious and plentiful. Customers also receive a complimentary shot of brandy at the conclusion of every meal. How kool is that?

As for the restrooms… well, they do have running water. A person more clever than I coined the term “genurinal” to describe the no-name thirsty urinals present in the men’s room.

Although the Town House Lounge offers abundant parking in rear, you may decide to park in front so you can snap photos of the giant cow before you go in. See you there!

fashionably historic

2006-01-24T00:03:00.000-07:00

I like history. My wife likes fashion. Sometimes that results in a skirmish over the remote control that sends both cats scurrying for cover resembling the expulsion of the French Acadians from Nova Scotia after the British captured Fort Beauséjour.

Now and again, movies and television programs come along that appeal to us both. Most recently, I discovered a true gem entitled Fashion Horizons- a 20-minute film that documents a trip of four trendy Hollywood starlets as they tour 1940s Albuquerque, New Mexico and Phoenix, Arizona.

The movie includes some interesting footage shot at the original Albuquerque airport and the luxurious Alvarado Hotel where the jet-setting hipsters freshen up before bopping over to Isleta Casino only to be disappointed to discover that Indian gaming had yet to gain a foothold in the Rio Grande Valley. Viewers should be cautioned to not allow the political incorrectness of the early 1940s present in the film to take away from the tender moment shared between Margaret Hayes and child author Louise Albieta (I am a Pueblo Indian Girl).

Other (long-deceased) Paramont Pictures beauties in the film include Virginia Dale, Esther Fernandez, Mary Martin and Martha O’Driscoll. Also noteworthy is a flyover of Acoma Pueblo in a TWA Stratoliner as the gals make their way to the Valley of the Sun. I was impressed how the director managed to cram the feel of an entire lazy Phoenix afternoon into the second half of the short. Admittedly missing the significance of the fashion show at the Camelback Inn, all I learned from that portion of the movie is that “Smoking is cool.”

The trip concludes with a flyover of the Grand Canyon when it becomes obvious that narrator Wendell Niles has assumed full control over the plane’s liquor cart.

Not convinced? DOWNLOAD Fashion Horizons and see for yourself.