https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?26383-Captain-Pike-s-Ship-Log-II The largest classic literature discussion forum on the Internet. Read Write Teach Share. en Thu, 04 Jun 2026 11:45:12 GMT vBulletin 10 https://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?26383-Captain-Pike-s-Ship-Log-II https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12574-That-Certain-Amount Sat, 08 Sep 2012 03:39:51 GMT
I love the sound of the train. Both, when it pulls into town signaling – you could even tell the differences in the way the whistle is blown. The right person probably could distinguish who is the engineer for the evening. Not even just the train whistle, but sometimes I like to be near the tracks and just hear that clanking and grinding sound and feel the throb of all that power. Man has done terrible stuff.

A guy got hit by a train last spring the next town over. First thought it might've been a suicide until we discovered he may have been walking along listening to music with those stereo earphones and his iPod. You kind of wonder, how does a person get hit by a train, I mean by mistake? After all, you can see it coming, or hear it or even feel it. I'll bet, if it was a mistake, that the guy had time to realize his folly when it was too late. Just imagine.

But, then again, it was just that certain amount of time. That amount like when you realized, that the gig was up – the big gig. It was long enough to know that death was imminent, but not long enough to think of things like my children or what a shame it will be, not swimming in the ocean, and not skiing down the hill next winter, not making love to my wife (she was my girlfriend then) those kinds of things.

Nope, it wasn't a bad way to die. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12574-That-Certain-Amount https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12217-Still-Hanging-in-There Thu, 09 Feb 2012 23:57:38 GMT When I was a little kid, I had a bag of marbles. We used to play marbles outside in the dirt for hours. Can you imagine kids doing this today? We... When I was a little kid, I had a bag of marbles. We used to play marbles outside in the dirt for hours. Can you imagine kids doing this today? We almost always went outside to play, unless the weather was really bad. I remember one day my friend Bruce Robinson and I climbed up to the top of a couple of young maple trees during a ferocious wind storm. We held on to those thin trees for dear life as the merciless wind buffeted us around. We were both screaming at the top of our lungs in real fear. While it was truly scary, I at least knew that I could've climbed down at any time and been safe. The, "make believe", part of it was that I allowed myself to be petrified with fear at the very thin top of this tree and it was delightfully fun!

Being a kid meant that we could pretend things at the will of our own imaginations. Oh, it was probably not safe climbing to the top of that tree on such a windy day. But I learned how to explore my world through make-believe, at times having tremendous fun. We rationally pressed the envelope of our childhood confinement to learn about the reasonableness of rules and the acceptance of punishment. I was allowed to go out and play in the neighborhood and expected to come home for dinner at the agreed-upon time. I walked to friends houses and I walked home, sometimes after dark. When I was old enough to have a drivers license, I sometimes hitchhiked many miles. It was not uncommon for boys to do this – girls never hitchhiked by themselves – this would have been considered a bad idea. I also knew how to change a flat tire.

Today, kids aren't expected to walk anywhere, unless they have a PDA device held firmly in their hand in front of them – that way they can be in constant contact at all times. In fact, it would be an odd thing to sit quietly by oneself anywhere, ever, that is, without being in textual or voice contact with someone. And if anyone is seen hitchhiking, he is obviously a lowlife felon, to be steered clear of. No normal person has any business opening the hood of an automobile or messing around with a flat tire – it's not safe to be outside your car anywhere, except at known locations, like the mall or a friends house. Besides, cars can be dirty, smelly and greasy underneath. Flat tires and fuel outages or other nonperformance of one's vehicle is strictly the business of AAA.

A while back we went to see, "Final Destination 5", in 3-D at the IMAX theater in our town. As soon as I got the nice, black plastic, 3-D glasses on, I was ducking the movie titles, breathing hard through the previews as the letters making up the words on the screen came ripping past my head in alarming clarity – I was sure that blood spattered on me a couple of times during the show.

With maturity, I'll admit to a certain amount of hearing loss (my wife says it's a very particularly selective loss, pertaining mostly to her) and I find myself sometimes wondering what people are saying, in a room with normal conversation going on. Technically – sensor failure has provided my brain with poorer quality data. The mind adapts to this loss of signal efficiency by working harder to process the input data. It's amazing what my mind comes up with during the first pass – when someone says something to you, you need some kind of a response in a timely fashion. Often, a half a minute later, my brain will jog me with the obviously correct answer, after it has reprocessed the poor quality data, relative to the current context.

But, back in the theater, as soon as this surroundsound audio came on, I wished I had worn some of those little yellow earplugs – the foam ones you scrunch up, and then they expand inside your ear canal. I remembered then how I had thought the same thing the last time we came to the movies. Did I mention, that it also seems as though I might have a bit of memory loss? No? Well I do think that some earplugs might preserve what I've got left in the hearing department. Incidentally, I remember as a young guy, noticing my buddy, rolling those little yellow cylinders up at a rock concert – he was protecting his hearing back then. "What a dweeb", I thought, "we're at a Dead Show, for Christ's sake – turn it up, oh, and give me a toke on that!" And by the way, that friend can hear pretty well today. And come to think of it, I think his memory's pretty good too.

Anyway, that's the thing – I feel somewhat obsolete these days. I mean, if anyone's actually reading this, they might not know what I mean by, Dead Show. The Grateful Dead was something, an institution, they weren't really, "rock 'n roll". They weren't even that well known or, super popular – but the notion of the Grateful Dead is a thing that has gone past, like the stagecoach or the telegram. These things were a big part of the lives of some of the folks that lived during that time. So what, right? It's just funny, being a guy that lived in a time when, for example, there was no way to rent a movie, no way at all (I mean even before VHS tapes).

Both of my parents and my first wife have passed on. All my aunts and uncles – dead. All those people, everything they knew, felt and remembered, gone forever. It's almost like a dream to me. The only vestige is my two wonderful children – they are evidence that that past life existed. It's like I'm walking along the mountain top and it's getting narrower and narrower as I proceed. Don't get me wrong, I really love being alive. More than ever, in fact. Sometimes I get pretty down; I have some baggage, some physical detriment you might say, which makes living life these days something that requires more planning, help from other people and even some specialized equipment! It's a funny thing: my spontaneity and invincibility have declined and my aches and pains and fatigue are on the rise, but life is more valuable today than ever. I suppose it's no different than a kid with a pocket full of quarters at the arcade – at first he's willing to play nearly any kind of game – maybe even involving other people, however, the emptier his pocket grows, the more wisely he considers on his continuing purchases.

Even odder, the warning and advice given me by my now passed elders is more commonly to be heard, echoing back just behind conscious thought. "Save your money boy…", I hear my father say – the ticket for the movie I was talking about was $14, in the afternoon, with the senior citizen discount! You can bet I heard old dad, rest his soul, I could imagine his eyes bugging out at the incredulity of my spending that much money on something that would've cost him a nickel. I heed! ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12217-Still-Hanging-in-There https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11597-An-Overdue-Visitor Wed, 27 Apr 2011 13:38:51 GMT Many years ago, my great friend John and I met a couple of young women and their companion, while traveling in Paris. The girls had obvious and... Many years ago, my great friend John and I met a couple of young women and their companion, while traveling in Paris. The girls had obvious and natural attractions and their friend was a great guy whom I liked right off and we got together the next day and explored some more together. We wrote back and forth, this new fellow and I, for a while after I returned home to the US.



Life is an assiduous assailant on any human attempt of permanence – institutions perish, orbits decay and relationships will falter. It's the natural order of things, through no fault of the perpetuating agents – life goes on.

But we fight back with faith and Facebook. I found this guy, fairly easily, once I had the notion. We got to talking again and my wife is picking him up at the airport today! A first-time visitor to the US, he spent a little time in NYC, saw some other sites of interest to him and we will enjoy a few days together in the Northeast, doing what folks do here.



It has been very interesting, the feelings around doing such a crazy thing. I really enjoy learning new cultures and languages. Anytime I visit another country I've had the best results collaborating with regular folks – if you can just find them. I hope to be just that to this man, a kindred spirit – a local guide to the goings-on and ways of life here.

He shared with me some photos he had taken back in 1985. These pictures are especially poignant to me, in at least a couple of ways – for one thing, I was a "walking around guy!" So check it out.

It is so eerie, unreal and like a dream to me now – seeing myself there among the frozen statues, so tall and balanced. I have had a great run – life is sweet from any perspective. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11597-An-Overdue-Visitor https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11051-I-Want-to-Travel Fri, 01 Oct 2010 13:52:53 GMT
I was reading today that they have found a star in the constellation Libra that has planets that could support life. One planet, in particular, is inside the, "Hospitable Zone".

Using the Doppler effect of light, they can measure the slightly changing hues in the color of the star to measure what's called, radial velocity, RV. RV is the movement along the line between it and us. By analyzing RV, they can tell how many and what size planets are orbiting around the star!

As a planet goes around its sun, it moves the sun around a little, as it goes. This, "wobbling", tells the tale of what all is orbiting a star. I'll bet it's pretty far out mathematics. Differential Photometry. Anyway, this particular star is about 20 light years from us. It is a red dwarf star, not as bright as our sun, in fact, you can't even see it without a telescope.

Somehow, they can tell that this planet, going around, "Gliese 581", is big -- probably three or four times the size of Earth, and, get this. It is, what they call, "tidily locked", which means that one side of the planet is always facing its sun. That would mean that, day and night would be fixed -- there would be one bright side of the planet, and one dark -- always, unmoving. The best place to live on such a planet, would be along the terminator -- you could move, east or west, to have more or less sunshine -- can you imagine?! I mean, it would be totally different than life here, but something could live there for sure.


Just imagine, maybe some of our grand children (or their grandchildren) might embark on a completely different kind of expedition -- it would take several generations to get there, going at the kinds of speeds we know about (50,000 to 100,000 miles an hour).

When I first started thinking about this, I thought, what a screwed up life it would be, a bunch of people, traveling on a spaceship, knowing that their only purpose, was to continue their species on until the next generation. Kids would be born on a spaceship, knowing that they would never reach their destination, that there first order of business was to grow up and have kids, whose offspring might someday see a new world.

But then I thought, what's the point of our existence? I mean, surely on this spaceship, they could have other things to do, entertainment things. And they could study the universe from their moving laboratory. It might not be that bad, PLUS, they would know that some day, some of their kin folk would be emissaries to a whole new world! Or, they would come to a place hospitable for life, and establish a new colony there! That would be a pretty cool thing to know you were trying to do, wouldn't it? Imagine, showing up on a new planet, representing humanity!

Someday, if we don't blow ourselves to smithereens first, this will be what everyone is talking about. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?11051-I-Want-to-Travel https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9135-The-Ensconced-Traveler Fri, 23 Oct 2009 15:20:09 GMT
I sit in my nook, reading the last of Robinson Crusoe (two syllables, by the way); the part where he travels by land now. He's had it with the Sea -- understandable. Anyway, I sit here, alone, with my grown-up son's abandoned but powerful computer humming away, and my big screen, my flatscreen monitor -- I chart his course of 400 years ago using Google's mapping software. I can imagine the French Pyrenees, separating the little villages of France and Spain -- hell, I can see them, photographs by recent travelers, uploaded to the sites like Panoramio and Flickr. One of them offers me an e-mail link, "e-mail a friend".

I can send this image of the hazy, jagged mountains, rising up angrily, as if to hold this little Shangri-La of a village, prisoner from the rest of the world. I e-mail my wife -- she's on the road today, training for her company, for her career. The sun shines in on my face, temporarily making it hard to see the screen, just like this picture I see now, looking west and south from a small town in France at the base of these great mountains.

I can imagine showing up there in the late afternoon, in need of coffee. Rickety cafés around the corner on decrepit brick pathways, maybe terra-cotta roofs and rough cobble roads traveled much the same as in days of old. I am seized with a feeling of wanderlust. 50 years old, in a wheelchair, reflecting on my life, my freedom up till now. You'll never know what you've got till it's gone. I am alive, so anything is possible, right? Yet, some of the declining years seem like the decline might be a little steeper, I hope my brakes work -- wouldn't want to rush through the rest of this life, or would I?

Captain Pike, wanderer at large, reporting from his small but brightly colored office/nook -- an adjunct of our "master bedroom", part of the new home of the luckiest man alive.
Photograph "vue depuis Osse " used without permission from aspe64. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9135-The-Ensconced-Traveler https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8443-I-Should-Be-Committed! Sun, 28 Jun 2009 18:55:47 GMT
All winter we shivered away up here in a one-bedroom apartment, trying to buy a house, hoping to start the spring together somewhere new. Every house we looked at had nice features -- hell, some of you have seen many of them. Every place we saw was anywhere from 60% to 85% what we wanted. But there was always something, and sometimes a bunch of things, that we would've had to change right off, before a home would be "compatible" to my needs.

An old friend said one day, "why don't you build a house?" Actually, we had looked into this last year and it seemed too expensive. One thing led to another and this guy, well actually, the son of the guy who asked that question, is building us a house.

All the stuff you've ever heard about building a house is probably true. Getting married may be a commitment of some kind, but building a house together, now that is a pledged promise of obligation! Isn't it great that I have such confidence that Little Miss Wonderful and I will endure this arrangement of bond and covenant.

So that's where I've been. Learning how to sign my name. Learning what color I would prefer to have floor walls and ceiling, and what they are to be made of. One little anecdote. The closet in the master bedroom is bigger and has more windows than one of the apartments I lived in when I went to college! It's going to be great though, we both have some of the things we've always wanted. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8443-I-Should-Be-Committed! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6887-How-ARE-the-Mighty-Fallen! Sun, 30 Nov 2008 21:08:25 GMT It's really getting crazy around here. Things are happening, more or less according to a wild-*** prediction of mine; but to see it thus unfolding is still hard to believe!

Housing prices falling tens of percent overnight. The places which seemed to be impervious to the rest of America's plight; the arrogant aristocracy's perchs, pompously out of reach of the clawing demise of the po' folks thrashing tentacles, now tumble tenfold into this sea of foreclosure. I can't believe we bob and pitch about like pieces of broken Styrofoam, worthless yet buoyant in our debt-less life raft of reasonable credit rating on an over-leveraged, equity-less ocean of failed personal-finance. Our meager little salary trickles in, paying our trimmed down expenses while castles fall all around us. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

And if that weren't enough, that needed commodities are getting cheaper, interest rates are falling too. It's almost like one of those doomsday stories, where 99% of the population is wiped out by some hellish virus. The survivors can loot the dead of their worthless cash, or, jump in a new vehicle and drive it till it runs out of gas, then jump in another one, continuing on.

Our new paradigm runs something like this. Search the net for houses with prices listed at just about twice what we could afford. Clicking for more details, more often then not, we are seeing properties in "short sale" status -- people working with their bank, trying to get just about anything offered for their overmortgaged homes, as they proceed toward foreclosure. Sometimes it seems sad, the rapid exit folks have taken, still obvious when we view their homes. Family portraits still hanging on the walls, little stuffed toys, dogeared by love, found behind appliances or on closet shelving.


It reminds me of the hasty retreat I once beat from the first house I ever bought. My mother was dying of cancer, my then-girlfriend (the LMW) had moved into mom and dad's house -- vowing to nurse my mother through her last days. We realized, Dad would not be okay left alone, so we relocated, suddenly (here) to the sparsely populated north country bringing only kid and accoutrements. That was when I got the fool-notion in my head that I would make a good landlord. That all went pretty well, till I broke my neck -- but that's another story.


Here's the place were looking at now. It's basically another ranch, the lay of the land allowing for an attached garage which is essentially downstairs from the master bedroom. This place is not very ready-accessible -- we are contemplating adding an elevator! Can you imagine that? If we don't get something pretty soon, the LMW's chagrin over living under her parents will probably constitute a tipping of her hand at the closing-haggle -- the seller's people will be on to us. This sure is a fun game to play, especially when you have an extra house to live in on a beautiful lake, which happens to be 13 minutes from my most trusty CNA.



My boy is still refusing to come home. At first I was stunned, and then I entered into a pretty lengthy self-abusing period. All my unhealthy self-criticism was only exacerbated by living life in a wheelchair -- I can't even go around town, literally knocking on doors. Poor me, boo-hoo. Now I'm getting pissed. He left me in the lurch and shirked what little responsibility he had. I hope nothing goes wrong with the little bugger, I love him so much, it's like a piece of me has broken off and has become lost in a dark forest. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6887-How-ARE-the-Mighty-Fallen! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6770-Godspeed-Fleeting-Youth Thu, 13 Nov 2008 02:31:31 GMT My pal, Kizpaws has inspired me to attempt a positive viewpoint toward the coming of winter. My physical condition precludes the many activities I... My pal, Kizpaws has inspired me to attempt a positive viewpoint toward the coming of winter. My physical condition precludes the many activities I used to enjoy in the winter. This is complaining. But there is another side to this.



I'm really glad that I was able to have all the great experiences that I did have, when I had them. I was reading about a young man with a fairly high up spinal cord injury (the higher the injury, the less function the victim will have). This kid is 17, he can't really even sit up for very long before he begins to pass out due to low blood-pressure. It's a common malady for persons with SCI's.

Looking back now, it was almost as though I had some sense that something was going to happen. I don't mean that I had a feeling of impending doom. I just went really manic with the cross-country skiing, refused to be plowed out -- opting instead, to shovel.

When I was a kid, some of my buddies and I decided we'd learn how to ski. Too cool to take a lesson, I read all I could on the subject, bought some equipment and headed for the mountains. I remember my first run down the hill. I tried to get into the position for the "stem Christie". Now, skis are pretty close to a frictionless surface when applied to an icy hill. It was surprising how fast I got going in no time, I crossed my skis and did a perfect forward one half; a face plant for several feet until I finally got the rest of my body to fall on the ground. Just about then, an old-timer just kind of shushed up to me and perfectly stopped, right along the long imprint of my face. "It's great, isn't it?", was all he said, smiling. Oh yeah, it was great all right, I told him, deciding right there, never to ski again. I saw one of my buddies coming down, completely off-balance, careening along on one ski, polls, arms and other leg all held out to full-length in the air. He looked like some kind of a broken hood ornament. The trouble with learning to ski at a facility is that you've got to get all the way back down the hill again before you can go home. I guess by the time we made it down, we were hooked.

I got to be a pretty good skier -- I could go down the double black diamond trails without too much mishap. You'd think all this experience would stand a man of 40 in good stead to try snowboarding. Not so. I volunteered to be a chaperone on my sons class trip to the ski mountain. Checking up on some of the boys, I wound up sitting in on a snowboarding lesson. It seemed pretty obvious: either you are leaning back some turning one way, or you were crouched somewhat, on your toes, turning the other.

In actual practice, however, it is much more difficult than it looks. For one thing, you are attached to the snowboard, so there's no way to, put your foot out for balance. All that day, I was either on my knees or on my butt. Being a cool dad, I had only worn Levis. On the way home, my wet and frozen butt and knees throbbed terribly. Later that spring, however, my son and I cut school on Tuesday and went back to the mountain again. This time, we both got the hang of it. All that afternoon, we were carving perfect S-turns all the way down the slopes on a beautiful bright sunny day. That day, karma allowed that we both had the same ability throughout the entire day. We drove home, victorious, talking about various aspects of advanced snowboarding. It was a great day.



There's something very satisfying about being out there, all bundled up, a blizzard swirling all around you, all sound is deadened and you can only see a few dozen feet once in awhile. I remember one such evening, not long after my first marriage broke up, my young son and I were all alone in the big old house that he grew up in. His clothes were wet so he had to stay in and stay warm. I felt I had to go out into the blizzard, to at least clear away some of the snow so that it would be possible, ultimately, for me to shovel us out, the next morning. My boy was only about seven or eight and the power had gone out. We had the wood stove roaring and a couple of nice Coleman lanterns going.

I know he wanted to be tough but it was dark and cold... and there was no TV! Luckily, we had a set of these little headset walkie-talkies. This was back in the day when walkie-talkies weren't very practical -- you could talk to someone upstairs or across the yard but that was pretty much it.

We got the idea of pretending we were space travelers on a strange and forbidden planet. I was the unlucky astronaut who had to go outside of our spaceship to fix the landing gear, so we could take off. So, outside I go, all bundled up in my spacesuit, complete with gloves and goggles, and a little antenna, projecting upward, from the headset, through a little hole in my hat.

As I flung the nearly knee-high snow, first this way, then that, inching along, millions of dry powdery snow flakes, swirled all around me. The staticy sounding voice he could hear added to the authenticity of our play. He was my commanding officer, checking up on the status; I was his first mate, out there clearing away the strange material on the surface of this hostile planet. It seemed almost real to me -- the guy who, theoretically, had moved beyond make-believe long ago. I would report into him all the progress I was making. If too much time went by, he would "raise me", on the two-way radio, making sure I had ample oxygen and that things were going okay. It was one of those times that I'll never forget. Somehow, we found both walkie-talkies and incredibly, had half decent batteries to go in them!

It wasn't that long before the power came back on and we were able to snuggle into bed that night, knowing that the storm would be over in the morning. I think that was the year we got enough of the right kind of snow for igloo making. We actually spent the night in that igloo: both of us had blow up air mattresses. I remember waking up around 6 a.m., in a wet trough -- my air mattress had had a small hole, apparently. Looking over at my son, I'm glad to find him curled up in his sleeping bag, high and dry and warm as toast.




Daddy, can you hear me,
on this two-way radio?
Don't think my waves will reach you,
your job makes you travel so.

You'd tell me I'm your big boy,
that it's OK to be scared.
There're no such thing as monsters,
hiding way upstairs.

I wouldn't want to bother you,
I think I'll be all right.
It's just so very dark outside,
and something's gone wrong with the lights.

You said your love will find me
and tuck me in real tight.
Our secret star so high above
will save me with its light!


]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6770-Godspeed-Fleeting-Youth https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6672-Fungus-among-us! Tue, 28 Oct 2008 02:57:54 GMT Still operating on the assumption that we're protected under the umbrella of guidance from the Great Ambitious One, we seek her, occasionally vague-but-only-because-I'm-not-a-very-good-listener, guidance. We will not be purchasing the wonderful house.




Remember this house was listed by a couple of house-flippers, so it was with a bit of apprehension that we entered into an agreement to purchase the property. A professional home inspection yielded the typical laundry list of items; missing electrical box covers, cracked glass and a missing handrail were among the very doable items one would expect. I'm not sure who's idea was to get a radon measurement, but it yielded at an unsafe level of 6.8 -- the ideal house is under 2.0, plenty of people opt to do nothing between 2.0 and 4.0, but 6.8 necessitates a remediation plan. It turns out that for less than $1500, a guaranteed, verifiable method of reducing the radon levels to an acceptable level is available from many sources here. Somewhere between 60% and 70% of homes in Maine have a measurable amount of radon in the basement.

Most people I talked to hadn't heard of doing a "mold test". The LMW has some asthma I have a physically reduced diaphragm function, this together with the fact that the place was ruined by "the elements" -- it sat with a leaky roof for years before was renovated made us interested in doing everything we could to make sure that there wasn't excessive mold hiding in the buildings walls.

The place is loaded. Penicillium, in particular, was measured at over 15,000 ppm in a cubic meter, three orders of magnitude beyond typical and tolerable levels -- for people with no breathing issues. The sellers had simply put new walls up over the existing colonies. All they would've had to do to eradicate the mole permanently would've been liberal dousing with bleach. But the testing lab indicated a level of this and other species of mold which implied that no eradication methods were used at all.

It actually didn't take that long for us to accept and ultimately be grateful for all the expense and excessive testing that we did do. There were some other items, like excessive taxing and the fact that nobody really knew what it would take to heat this over 3000 square-foot home which jogged us out of denial and down the road toward rational thinking.

So we are back house hunting again, belts a little bit more tightened and a relationship that has been made stronger by the struggle and the distance between us as she gets used to working a new job 400 miles away. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6672-Fungus-among-us! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6570-OMG-someone-up-there-loves-us! Thu, 16 Oct 2008 03:06:52 GMT This is getting crazy! I can't believe what is happening! So the owners of the blue ranch came back with the infinitesimally smaller counter offer. Okay, that's great news, right? That means, they are dealing with us -- we have a chance. Thinking this all over, I'm considering this blue House, it has technically all the stuff we would need. But no bling -- nothing special, an adequate, sensible domicile... blah blah blah.



We had 24 hours to reply to the counter offer. The selling broker says, "that's it. That's their bottom line." Our realtor says, "who knows, maybe they'll come down a little more." I just kept thinking about this monstrous place, in another town that we had first looked at. It was really nice, the foundation was an ungodly 60 X 40, not counting the connected garage -- 2 car! I was suspicious because the place was a flipped house. It had been built commercially, to house traveling executives -- no expense had been spared in its construction. It had fallen into disrepair after an estate failure. These guys pickedit up relatively cheap and completely gutted the place.



It was out of our league, the guys who were flipping it claimed they were taking it off the market -- to sell on Craig's list. We made some lowball offer and they scoffed. We moved on. But always, when looking at pictures and Internet listings of other places, I was always comparing with the big ranch with a hip roof. The place had been completely renovated and with the first floor measuring in at over 3000 ft.², nobody really knew what it would take to heat it. Plus the taxes were just underneath astronomical.

But still, that beautiful kitchen, with the tile floor and the cherry cabinets and all that hardwood and new Berber throughout, just kept nagging me. Little Miss wonderful and I were talking on the phone this evening, after supper, I said, "I wonder if we ought to call those guys, the guys that had that really great house, just tell him we are right in the final phase of negotiation with this place that was average and fine -- make sure they sold it."



Two hours later, after much haggling and horsetrading, calling back and forth, we arrived at a figure a lot less than what we were hoping to pay for the plain blue place! The one hitch being that their property has been taken off the market, they don't want to pay the commission to the realtor we originally used to find it. Little Miss Wonderful hadn't actually signed an exclusive with our buying broker until AFTER we looked at this wonderful place. We talked back and forth, but Little Miss Wonderful wouldn't budge; she insisted that her buying realtor should get at least half the commission for the sale.

At this point, 10:30 p.m., it looks as if we are going to split the commission and steal this great house that I have been fantasizing about for months! If something goes wrong with this deal, I'll have to crawl off somewhere, close out my account, skulk back a couple of years later and sign up again on the literature network with a new ID: Captain Chump, something like that.

Man, this life is so fascinating -- I can't wait to see what's going to happen next. I've got to be the luckiest guy on the planet. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6570-OMG-someone-up-there-loves-us! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6568-A-hitch-in-the-proceedings Wed, 15 Oct 2008 19:23:14 GMT Okay, yeah... it turns out, I can be a bugger to live with. We talked on the phone, Little Miss Wonderful and I, we talked about... money. See,... Okay, yeah... it turns out, I can be a bugger to live with. We talked on the phone, Little Miss Wonderful and I, we talked about... money. See, here's an area where we, at least I alone, have some issues. I hate to buy something, then see it at half-price a week later or somewhere else. Before I say anything more, have a look at the real LMW, or more precisely, the youngest of, Little Miss Wonderful.



Now that you are sufficiently sidetracked, let me to you what happened...
So our conversation about what offer to make on this house (which has everything we need -- even ramped access in two places) came unraveled, resulting in a mild tiff.

The only thing worse than fighting with my spouse is fighting with my spouse on the phone, hundreds of miles away. Imagine it: she's down there, living in the basement of her tyrannical father, her mother's got a brand-new teacup Pomeranian crapping all over the floor so that her father (who excelled in two tours of Vietnam) is doing the porcupine dance, trying not to step in tribble (Trekkies -- look it up) Shi'ite. He's up there, pounding his fist, "why do you have to move all this crap in here?", she's just taken a new job where the minimum requirements included a master's degree, she's trying to buy a house which can contain a dysfunctional version of the Brady bunch. She's in the realtors office, after a long, hard days work, on the speakerphone with me, sitting there with the real estate broker and I'm complaining about our not talking first about how much we want to offer.

First off, let me admit, I hate the steamroller sales pitch, where the agent is saying things like, "well, to be terribly honest...", [so all that other preamble was a lie?] And then the famous, "well of course it's your choice...", [you don't have to tell me it's my choice, I know IT'S MY CHOICE].

So, you get the idea, I'm this almost 50, balding fat guy in a wheelchair, all alone up north, wanting deliberately to "lowball" the seller of this perfectly reasonable home... Meanwhile, LMW is sitting in an empty board room, across a big table from this fast talking realtor who has taken her to view eight properties just a little bit earlier. I'm bellowing this and that, on the speakerphone, she wants to turn into a viscous liquid and flow down through a small grate in the floor, disappearing forever.

She wound up leaving there, embarrassed, having made no offer. Oh well, so, I'm not always able to be the great supportive man I would like to be. I wanted to be able to come up with some number we both agreed on, to present as an offer. Our communications fell apart -- I surely have a part in that. I'm happy to report that the last night, we had a good heart-to-heart and did make a low offer for the property.

I really thought that it was a "buyer's market" these days. Maybe it's a good thing that up here in Maine, the level of mortgage defaults is not as high as the country's average. Also, the area that we want to live in is still very desirable, meaning, housing prices haven't dropped that much.

I hope the sellers will counter our offer. My fear is, they will just reject the offer, feasting instead on some other offers they may have gotten. I've tried to include God in this deal, but this is not my default MO. My motto used to be stuff like, "seize the day", "give 'em hell" and "get, while the getting's good". I've been through enough, these last few years, to recognize I'm not alone -- that there is a plan, and I'm part of it. These days, I'm trying to be part of the plan -- moving with the current, instead of fighting against it. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6568-A-hitch-in-the-proceedings https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6550-She-Finds-a-House! Mon, 13 Oct 2008 20:11:02 GMT Well folks, Little Miss wonderful seems to have found the house for us. And none too soon, either. You see, her parents are a little toxic which... Well folks, Little Miss wonderful seems to have found the house for us. And none too soon, either. You see, her parents are a little toxic which makes living there difficult. It's not a grand Palace, but it has four bedrooms and an attached garage! I don't know if the pool table in the finished basement comes with it or not.



She is an only child and just got a great job near to them and to her two children. Wouldn't you think Mom and Dad would be happy for her? She's got an awesome husband and she just got an awesome job -- I don't know, I'm tickled pink.

The real estate scene in downeast Maine is a little depressed, or should I say depressing? Rather than trying to sell our home here, we will rent the house out, hanging on, we'll hope for a time when property values are higher here, and not every house in town is for sale -- which is how it is today.

Just got off the phone, she forgot to take our checkbook. Making an offer requires $1000 earnest money -- we are going through Remax. If her father will spot her the $$, she'll make an offer this afternoon, if not, it will take a while to get a bank check down in her little paws.

It sure is exciting. Glad I didn't kill myself last week -- I can't wait to see what's going to happen next!
[This just in] got off the phone again, just now, realtor says, "just come over, make the offer..."
... to be continued. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6550-She-Finds-a-House! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6457-Darn-it-summer-s-over!! Thu, 02 Oct 2008 18:04:38 GMT Autumn, a time for harvest; a time to review the year's proceeds.



If you are a maple leaf or a person with any money in the US stock market then maybe, FALL is more the operative word. Or maybe when the Great Spirit shuts one door, she reveals a couple open windows.

This is technically Little Miss Wonderful's last day on the job. She has accepted a new job 300 miles to the south. Should be starting down there in less than two weeks. My son and I will stick it out up here until we find the right house to buy down in yuppie land (southern coastal Portland, Maine). LMW will live with her dad for as long as she can stand it or until we get a house. It's kind of scary but also a great adventure. Like a handful of hobbits leaving the Shire for unknown peril and fame.

Take a look at this tree, a spruce or Christmas tree, it stood out on account of its wonderful symmetry. Who would've guessed there could have been a maple tree hopelessly fighting for the same turf. The deciduous team may have signaled surrender this round, but oh what a signal! What irony, that this pithy hardwood could have been so beautiful all along but only display its beauty in death. It has visually set its victor afire!

The explosions of color we sometimes enjoy in the Northeast do seem almost like frozen fireworks; hanging briefly in the frost while students return and lakes recede, bracing for an ice blue tranquility. Time lapsed snapshots of celebration, some secret signal begins this crescendo of floral symphony.

Last February, I told myself, "you can get through this thing, just don't do this to yourself again!", but here I am, not living in Uruguay, bracing for the winter again. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6457-Darn-it-summer-s-over!! https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6077-The-Carnival-s-in-Town Sun, 10 Aug 2008 06:09:26 GMT
Little Miss wonderful and I went to the Carnival in town. We showed up just before they really opened. This allowed us to roll and stroll about unimpeded.


I love the Carnival Artwork -- it really ought to be considered an art form. Maybe someday, archaeologists will be digging through and find stuff about a primitive show going society.



We live fairly near the fairgrounds. Last night, lying in bed, I could hear the groaning and clanking, mixed in with young girls screams and sirens sound effects. I could easily imagine a great mechanical beast; feasting on our young and their meager supply of money! What a great, slow-moving, seething beast which we must endure one week in the summer. Maybe it's the Great Granddaddy of the ice cream truck, which seems more benign, but feasts, one at a time, on our children -- especially around dinnertime!



Oh, and of course: this also qualifies as taking her out to dinner...

now, what food group was this again?

You've heard how a person's dog begins to look like its master, right? These two guys haven't owned their dogs very long, I guess...

We didn't go in the scary fun house -- thankfully, it's not accessible to everyone!


What the heck is this thing, anyway? I was glad I had already eaten before I got here...


I love juxtaposition:



I haven't always been as fascinated by the Carney Lifestyle -- it's the same as my interest in the hobos of old as described so well in London's "The Road and Other Stories". Maybe it's because I have passed the point in life where this would be possible for me. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6077-The-Carnival-s-in-Town https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6063-Coffee-Anyone Thu, 07 Aug 2008 20:48:29 GMT I've got no problem with coffee; I could quit anytime. I really do enjoy a great cup of Joe, however. We used to buy all kinds of exotic coffees. I think it matters more how the coffee is brewed than how much you had to pay for a pound. Maybe it's the exact right temperature that makes it best, I don't know.

I really enjoy the coffee that comes out of those "one-shot" machines they have in the grocery store. You know the ones that you place a little, disposable cup of your favorite kind of coffee into the chamber of the machine, press the button, and in a short time, you hear that espresso-like sound and your olfactory system is assaulted with that wondrous energy-giving aroma.

Only the little cups seem so, what is the opposite of green? The disposable cups are wasteful, aren't they? it seems wrong to keep discarding them -- and they are kind of pricey. So, what did I do? You guessed it. I tried to put some more fresh coffee into the little disposable cup after I had already used it. I had a grin on my face as I was spooning the Rain Forest Nut through the little slit I had cut in the plastic top of the supposedly disposable one-shot module. Why wouldn't it work?

I pressed the blue brew button. It sounded right. Wait, what is that chunky stuff? My cup is all full of coffee grounds! Apparently, the hot, steamy water being injected into the single-shot-module is under such force that it blew out the coffee -- out through the slit I had cut. It tasted like crap, too.

Back to the computer, I pull up Altavista, type "Keurig coffee disposable cups", and right of, I get a lot of links to exactly what I'm looking for. I wanted to send away somewhere, buy the individual cups at a better rate than that offered by the local grocery store.

Turns out, once I pay the shipping, and wait while I'm chewing on NoDoz tablets, I'm really not going to get any special deal by going out on the Internet to buy my coffee modules. But what I did find was a very interesting thing: a tiny little basket, very much like what goes in my regular coffee machine, only real small -- mouse sized.

Searching all around the Internet, it seems the vendors are all in agreement about one thing: the price: $14 .99 USD. OK, all right. That means, I'm going to wait. Meanwhile, I'm out of coffee.

Back at the grocery store, tucked way in the back behind the display, behind the flavor of the day, is a little box containing... you guessed it. The little basket assembly is available right now, in my town, for 15 bucks (14.99 actually).

Now I'm having lots of fun. Mixing in a little espresso with some Colombian Supremo Popayán, yeah baby, really good stuff. Looking around the kitchen, I realize, I've come full-circle. There's my old-fashioned coffee pot -- just a regular programmable drip style, flashing the wrong time incessantly. Next to that, my French press -- I didn't really talk about that, did I? The French press, we bought at her mother's house, when we were visiting and they had no machine at all. It's a strange looking contraption. I've seen it in the old movies. It's perfect for making 2 cups -- they don't stay warm but each cup is the same strength. And then, this new contraption: pretty much exactly like the original Mr. Coffee, except on a macro scale.

Isn't that just what you'd predict would happened in this day and age? The day and age of individual everything. I can make my side of the bed undulate at a different frequency than my wife's. Now, in the morning, I can engineer my first cup of coffee. Now, if I could only figure out the rest of my day. ]]> Captain Pike https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6063-Coffee-Anyone