Merry Christmas

Back in mid-November, I applied to company A. As with most resumes and applications I have filled in and sent out over the last nine months, I didn’t really expect a response. Partly because few companies acknowledge you, partly because it was different from what I had been doing for the last twenty-seven years. Different, but similar enough that it sounded interesting and possibly fun.
I was surprised to get a phone call a week later and I had a very nice phone interview with a pleasant woman. She invited me in for an in-person interview at the end of the week! I had only had one in-person interview during my long job search.
The interview went well and I liked the two people that interviewed me.
But alas, the following Monday, one of them called to say that despite how well the interview went, they found someone who was a better fit. (sigh)

The following day, a friend of mine called to say their company B was looking for an Analyst, was I interested?
Of course!
Long story short, the job matched most of what I can do and there would be new challenges. The phone and in-person interviews went well and I was quite excited. I tried to keep my enthusiasm in check, since I would have to wait two weeks for the owner to return from his buying trip. I was not worried, because of how well things went.
Then company A called up. The applicant they made an offer to withdrew their name and would I be willing to accept an offer for the job? (do bears shit in the woods?)
They asked if I could let them know in a few day. I told them I would let them know by the end of the day.
For the jobs were similar in pay and benefits. Company A was slightly better, but a little longer commute. Company A was not involved in manufacturing and had more chances for advancement.
AND, a bird in the hand is better than one in the bush. So I accepted their offer.

Hard to believe that after nine months of looking, I will soon be working and not be ‘a man of unfortunate leisure’.

Truly a nice Christmas present.

Fat Pants

Back in October, after eight months of job searching, I actually had a phone interview. That went well and I was asked to come in for an in-person interview! I was excited until I got out my new slacks and found that they didn’t fit!
Back in March, when I was laid off, we went shopping for some new slacks. My old ones were just too tight. Since I have been slowly gaining weight over the years, I threw out all my old slacks.
Months went by, we worked on the bricks and stones in front, and other projects. I stopped eating cookies for lunch because one does have to cut back expenses. We started taking Molly for a second, longer walk.
Over time, I began having trouble keeping my jeans up, even my old, tight, raggedy ones. I thought about getting suspenders because a belt just wasn’t working.
So by the time I went on the first job interview, I had lost twenty pounds! No wonder my pants were not fitting.
We went shopping a week later and bought more slacks, but with a smaller waistband.
The job was not offered to me and I continued to look.
I have been on an interview to another company, though it did not result in a job; but at least I looked better.
Tomorrow I have a very promising interview and I am looking forward to it.

So I think things are looking up, since I am at least going on more face to face interviews. And I am ready for the future, for I have stored my fat-pants in with my summer clothes. For I know that part of the reason for losing the weight is that I no longer sit on my butt for eight hours a day.
If I get the job there will be no more extra Molly walks and I will be sitting for hours a day.
I guess I can live without cookies for lunch.

Women still want me

We broke up the concrete walkway this week and there is now a nice dirt path to the front door. Next week we will get things ready to pour a new concrete pad. Then it will be laying bricks and the bluestone pavers.
And it will start, the young moms and dads will comment on the progress, as they walk their kids to and from school. It’s nice to hear compliments on your work.
The last time we were working on a front yard project, a young mom from two doors down stopped by chat. She said she had to see what we were doing and how far we had progressed.
“Looks very nice.” She said. “When you are done, you can come over to my house and work on my backyard!”
I turned and looked at her cheerful smile and cute figure. I smiled back. “Oh, not for all the tea in China.” I said in my most cheerful voice. She laughed.
Two days later, a young, good-looking blonde stopped to look and then said. “Oh, when you are done here, you can come work on my front yard!”
I looked at her and her two little daughters. “Oh, I don’t think so.” I said with a nice smile on my face.
Yeah, the blonde was a cutie; but cute just doesn’t cut the mustard. I now know what it’s like working on your knees for hours. Not for lust or money!
Love and the satisfaction of doing a good job yourself, yes.

American. Air Cadets Official Construction Kits

American. Air Cadets Official Construction Kits
Featherweight flying model. Rubber band powered.
Made by the A.A.C. Supply Company, Iowa City, Iowa.

Since there is a dearth of information on this subject, I thought I would write up what I know.

In my late father’s collection of toys, I have seven primitive balsa kits from the 30’s. I have done a lot of searching and there is almost no information on them on the world wide web.

What is also interesting about them is how primitive they are, compared to airplane kits made in the forties and beyond. Each box has sheets, blocks and strips of balsa wood. If you were to attempt to build one, you are expected to take the quarter scale plans and redraw them to full size. You have to carve the propeller from a block of balsa. All in all, a rather complex construction project for an amateur.
The kit does come complete with glue and what might be a vial of banana oil. The banana oil, when thinned with acetone, is supposed to make a good dope. The other option is to use ‘dope’ the “Jap tissue paper” (what we now call silk-span) with a flour and water paste.

I know of eight different models that they made-
Eaglerock Bullet
Curtiss Robin
Red Bird
Fokker
Spirit of St. Louis
Travel Air
R.O.G. Racer
Endurance Tractor

I did find tiny bits of info on www.rcuniverse.com and www.rcgroups.com. (I edited them slightly)

“The American Air Cadets was an organization formed in the late 1930's to encourage young people to become involved in aeronautics.
All such organizations try to get prominent personalities associated with there operation. Strangely enough the Cadets got the noted conductor Leopold Stowkowski (Fantasia and other films involving classical music) to endorse them!!
The Cadets commissioned a series of models of increasing complexity to be built as one advanced through their program.
The Air Cadets made little or no impact on the direction of aero modeling.
All this is from memory and I am unaware of any printed sources.”
Richard Smith
--
“This was one of the groups to form (and fail) in the Mid-west of the USA. They often began with some simple rubber powered plan to which you ordered from some location, got a membership card, and a few other things, and were ordered to complete the model and take to... for some contest.
If enough juniors showed up, the club went on, if not they went to some other location tried there or went out of business.
The Jimmy Allen group was only one to survive for a while.

Wm.
--
The Rotarian - Nov 1930 – (Google Books Result)
64 pages - Magazine
Sponsor Air Cadets Peekskill, NY — Directors of the Peekskill Rotary Club have voted to sponsor the American Air Cadets, an organization fostering boys' interests in aviation.

----------
So, perhaps they are just one little footnote in model making history and I have seven small pieces.

GW

Wise Uncle Warty might give bogus advice

I have found myself in an odd position recently. Several of my female friends, (I don’t like ‘lady friends or ‘girl friends’ simply because there can be misunderstandings.) have had mangled breakups with their boyfriends and written about it online. So I, being nicely married for decades, have offered sage advice and support. Mostly I remind them that they are smart, personable young pretties, but also to let them know that the right guy is out there. I try to help them look forward to what might be and not to keep looking back at the heartless bastards that they pine for.
It amuses me somewhat and I have to check what I say. For my history is one of not even looking for the right woman and finding her. Sure, it took some time for Wonder-Girl to realize that I was an okay fellow; but I think that is one of the things that made everything work. With neither of us trying, we became friends first.

These young women are my friends and I would so like to see them find a good man and be happy. So I have to be careful when consoling them. Remind them to keep their eyes open and that there are good guys out there who will appreciate them for who they are.
After all, I like them, so others must also.

And there is a nagging feeling that I might have been able to help Pip.

Finding Pip

I hadn’t looked for Pip in a while.(I wrote about my online sleuthing several times) I kinda gave up looking for her since she obviously didn’t want to be found. But I kept thinking about her as another typhoon slammed into the Philippines. Most of my Pi friends are on the island of Cebu and I did not have to worry about them. But Pip lived near Manila and I was concerned. So I tried a few searches and found a note about her. She was still around Manila. So on a lark, I looked on Facebook. Right away her picture popped up! It sure made me smile to see her face again. I clicked the ‘friend’ button and waited. I got her response in a few hours and she sent me a hello message.
It’s so nice to find a lost friend again.
She explained that someone she trusted betrayed her, so she went hermit and wiped out her online persona (mostly). She was sorry and promised never to vanish again, at least not without saying bye.
And now I will patiently wait to catch her on IM and chat again. We have always had fun conversations. She is a smart young lady and always fun to chat with, either online or in person.

And I find it amusing how I have these good friends in faraway places. Newport RI, Darwin, Cebu City, Manila. We are always happy to get letters from each other, keeping in touch. The hard part is knowing that I will probably never see them again. The odds of me getting back to the Philippine, much less Australia, are pretty slim.
Still, it’s nice to have these friendships.

A Gentleman, mostly.

One of my friends(a sweet young thing) made a comment online about what other people might do when taking a bath. Being a gentleman, I only made a silly comment. Then some guy we know made a comment about her lathering herself up and singing ‘Loving you’, as her hands traveled down under. I was shocked he said that, for I never would.
And I really didn’t need that image, nor go down that slippery soap.
But there it is in my mind, her tawny, nubile body; and her slim fingers tracing circles through the white soapsuds…

A thoroughly delightful image. But of course, one that I would never share with her. Why ruin her image of me as a gentleman? She does not need to know about the ‘mostly’.

Righting -again

More terrible puns of mine

“I won’t go into that optometrist shop.” She said. “They don’t carry this style anymore.”
“So, you won’t go there because you won’t get respect?”

They stood there, surveying their damaged house. The earthquake had totally destroyed it. She turned towards the makeshift shelter he had erected. It was just an army surplus canvas tent that he bought on sale two years ago.
The first storm of the season began to rain on them as his wife ducked into the shelter.
“This will never do!” She exclaimed. “There are holes everywhere and the wind blows right through.
He sighed and looked up at the clouds and said wearily. “Now is the winter of our discount tent.”

When the defendant came up for trial, the judge said. “We shall know the truth, and the shall set your fee.”

Then there was the guy who kept annoying this prostitute that hung out near his apartment. They arrested him of course, for disturbing the piece.

If a scientist copies another scientist genetically engineered disease and then releases it to infect people, would he be accused of plague-arism?

A gorgeous woman lies in a hospital, in the final stages of TB. As she hacks and coughs, one has to wonder if she can now be considered a Phlegm fatale?

In France, the race car drivers are all upset about health insurance. It seems that most companies are denying them coverage. They claim that the drivers have a Prix-existing condition.

In a small town out west, the train pulls into the station and one man gets off. As he walks down the main street, the townspeople stop and stare, some pull children inside.
In front of one building stands an older man, black bag in his hands. Above him, a sign reads, ‘Dr. Rawlings, Specialist in Rheumatoid arthritis’
The young man stops and Dr Rawlings looks him over. “So, you’re the new doctor? And an arthritis specialist? You might as well get back on the train young man. As I told you in my telegram, there isn’t Rheum enough in this town for the two of us.”


If a ghost leaves a smelly residue, would it be a poulter-gas?

“Pumas are very shy creatures with low self-esteem and you don’t see them often.” The guide explained.
“Why is that?” The hunter asked.
“Well, as near as we can tell, as they are growing up, their mothers always tell them that they catamount to much.”

So, there is this group of lesbians sitting at an English pub. One of them is talking about her last relationship that went sour.
“You know, sometimes I don’t think there is a woman out there for me. Maybe I should try a man?”
Here friends are shocked, of course; but one of them supports her and says.
“What the heck, go for Bloke.”

Of course, if a gay man were to date women, he would be broadening his horizons!

As Grandpa used to say, “I’ve become a believer in old wives tails.”

“You know honey, I think that I was always meant to be your wife.”
“Well, I guess I’ve grown accustomed to your fate.”

Well, it seems that the triplet convention is not going to have their convention at Yosemite National Forest again. Everyone complained that they couldn’t see the forest for the three’s.

“Do you like deer?”
“I’m fawned of them.”

“I don’t like palm trees.” She declared, “Their leaves are so messy.”
“Your not frond of them?”

Limericks

Here are a few of my attempts at Limericks.
Elly was the only one who didn’t like hers.

A comely young lass named Trace
Kept her suitors at bay with mace.
But a man named Phil
Had a strong will,
and the marriage is soon to take place.


The was a young woman named Lois
Who pretended never to know us
For if she gave us strong drink
We’d throw up in her sink
And straight to the door she would show us


The was a young man named Matt
Who claimed to know where it was at
But when she darkened the room
He got lost in the gloom
And somehow molested the cat.


There once was a gal named Elly,
Who claimed that her feet weren’t smelly.
But it seemed her nose,
Lacked a gene to smell toes.
For their reek could turn a strong belly.


Miss Silver, whom we called Steph.
Had the boys all out of breath.
For try as they might,
from morning till night.,
they couldn’t find a word that rhymed with Silver.

Cousin, Cuisine

A few months back, we had a little gathering at Auntie’s. There were several generations present and at one point someone tried to figure out the family tree of the cousins. I pointed out that the different generations were counted as ‘removals’. And that contrary to popular belief, ‘removal’ did not refer to how many times a person had been kicked out of the family.
“Then what’s a ‘kissing cousin’?” Someone asked.
“That’s a cousin you wouldn’t mind kissing.” I answered.
“Then what’s a second cousin?” Someone else asked.
“That’s a cousin that you wouldn’t mind having seconds of!”
A couple of guys laughed at that; WG just hit me on the arm.

The conversation was quickly changed to the weather and I almost brought up ‘relative humidity’; but I knew they would not want to hear about the time the cousin got moist.

Even silver linings have a cloud

It’s the first rain of the season. Instead of the usual little storm with light rain, we are being pounded! High winds are making the rain blow sideways and half of our covered deck is wet.
We are safe inside, where it is warm; but silly Molly is on the back deck. It’s not that cold, but she is curled up on the wicker love seat, shivering. She won’t come in because WG was mean to her. WG baked cookies today; snicker-doodles.
Late last year, we bought a new oven. It has a fancy electronic control panel that beeps when you turn on the oven. The first time we used it was to bake a roast. Some fat splattered out, burned and set off the smoke alarm.
Molly did not like the scream of the smoke alarm and she made for the back door and stood there trembling. We let her out and she would not come in for hours!
So now, every time we turn on the oven, the beep warns Molly and she goes to the back door, waiting to be let out. She will not come in until the oven has been off for a while.
Silly dog.
And I have homemade cookies!

I’m ready

Here are two interesting items from my dad’s collection, a 1943 copy of the Aeronautics Aircraft Spotters Handbook and a U.S. Navy Anti-aircraft Range Indicator. (made by the A.C. Gilbert Co. The same company that made Erector Sets! You wonder what toy makers did during WWII? They made toys for the military.)

Study the book. Recognize the approaching plane. Hold the Range Indicator two feet from your eye. Turn the dial until the two center wires match the wingtips. Call out the range to the gunners and watch them try to blow the bastard out of the sky.



So if those pesky Krauts ever decide to launch their He-111’s or Ju-88’s across the channel again, I’ll be ready.

I think they should be kept as a set.

The Duration

One of the fun things about listening to old radio shows is that you get a feel for the times. Besides the information in the story you listen to, there are the commercials. Where the story is fiction, the commercials reflect reality.
And you find that the problems and solutions from sixty years ago are not very different from today.

This is very apparent when listening to the Signal Oil program, ‘The Whistler’. I have just finished listening to the episodes from the early forties and the main topic for the commercials is how to get through ‘The Duration’. The Duration was how long WWII was to last. Because everything was needed for the war effort, there were many things that were rationed and some things you could not buy.
I don’t think new cars were being built. Tires and gasoline were rationed.

So your car had to last for ‘The Duration’ and you had to take care of your car. Change the oil every 1,000 miles, have your tires checked for nicks and cuts. (so you can get them recapped)
The amusing thing I have found was the advice on saving gas. Last summer, people complained about the high price of gasoline. During WWII, because gas was rationed, if you ran out of ration stamps, you could not buy any more. (okay, there was the black market.)
Sixty years ago, the advice to save gas was the same as it is today.
Slow starts.
Keep your tires properly inflated.
Keep the car tuned up.
Car pool.

And buy Signal Gasoline. The ‘go farther’ gasoline.

The Beagle at Night

Two days a week, I walk Molly the beagle by myself. So on those mornings I put on my headphones and listen to an old radio show. It works well for the show is just a half hour, as is the walk.
It’s the same opening whistle and introduction every time and I have memorized it.
I realize that almost no one knows of the show today. It is so before anyone’s time that I can steal from it. Gosh, I can cheat and be semi-clever.

So as I watch Molly as she sniffs her way along the sidewalk, investigating things unseen, I bend the old intro to fit the little dog.

I am the Beagle and I know many things, for I stalk by night.
I know many strange tails, many secrets hidden in the shadows of the shrubs and bushes in my backyard.
Yes, I know the nameless creatures that you dare not seek!

With a Throaty Laugh

For even a man who’s plain of face
and sleeps alone at night.
Can have a comely lass
climb through his bedroom window,
when the moon is full and bright.


Now I can’t say for sure if she was a werewolf; but by the way she attacked my neck, I knew she was a liken-throat.


(Sorry Lawrence Talbot)

Running low

Looks like I only have a pint or so left of my agricultural Chlordane. It keeps the termites away from the foundation and the cockroaches from coming over from the school next door. Mix up 1.5 ounces, spray around the house once a year. However, with a beagle that eats everything, I am limited to where I can spray the stuff.

Maybe eight years of protection left. I wonder if the stuff is still potent?

Albany street sign

I don't know, I always thought a Speed Hump was just another name for a Quickie.

Dog Walk Observations

Dog Walk One
Molly the female,
Leaves awful long p-mail.

Dog Walk Two
As we walk down the street,
it seems every few feet,
he has to Twitter and Tweet.
Tommy-dog, don’t wet your feet!

Dog Walk Three
And we won’t speak of dog,
when they blog.

Immoral quandary

Just for fun, I used to read the personals. Sometimes it was interesting and I have gotten a few story ideas from them. The most interesting are the ‘missed connections’. Times when someone sees a person who is interesting but lacks the ‘something’ to approach the person, so they post an ad in the local paper. Almost like putting a message in a bottle and throwing it into the ocean.
And now we have CL, where people can post ‘missed connections’ quickly and for free.
It is interesting the number of people who post that they wished they would be someones ‘missed connection’. Sure, I understand that. A little anonymous ‘I think you’re cute.’, might life a person’s spirits, especially if they can imagine the person is not a creep.

So I was rather surprised to read one and realize that I knew whom the MC posting was about.
(I’ll remove the telltales) I quote-
“I see you at least once a week. You have the coolest store in town and you are such a sweetheart. You always seem to have a song in your heart and a dance in your step. Your eyes are intoxicating and I just wonder, could you be happy with someone half your age? I am available, are you?

I know the shopkeeper and do business with him on occasion; hence the quandary. My first thought was to email him about the posting. I mean, who would not like the idea of some young thing thinking they’re attractive. But what if he shares his email with his wife?
Then I thought of telling him the next time I visit the shop, but although I don’t think that he would snap at the bait of a young lass half his age; I see no reason to give him the slightest encouragement to misbehave.
So I’ll just be quiet.

Hidden Treasures

Just as we were finishing up the garage sale at Step mothers, I happened to go to the back of the garage, move a box and shine a flashlight under the house.
I saw more boxes of stuff tucked into the inky shadows of the dimly lit crawl space.

We had just finished two days of selling off stuff and junque and now I found more! With a sigh, I climbed onto the foundation wall and started crawling under the house.
The dirt was damp, as usual in the hills of the Bay Area. The first thing I found was a box of magazines that has fallen off the foundation and onto the damp earth. I do not know how long it had sat on the dirt, but it was a moldy disintegrating mess.
I did find one intact magazine, a 1954 copy of Planet Stories! (see pic) The cover depicts 'The strangely beautiful Xintel of the blue-brown skin.'

Notice the classic, cliché cover. A young, nubile woman (missing her top!) being menaced by (male) aliens. I have carefully dried the magazine and will carefully read it. The pulps of the fifties were printed on cheap paper.

Two other boxes held real junk and that was quickly disposed of. But the last two boxes held some strange lab equipment. (see pic)



These ‘flasks’ were wrapped in newspaper from 1959! They don’t say ‘Pyrex’ on them, so you can’t heat them.
With a round bottom, they can’t stand up. I think they were mounted on a stand and they were used to pipe gases through a liquid.
But since I am not a chemist, it’s only a guess.
I have no idea what to do with them. They are lousy vases, since the bottom is rounded. My friend said I do a ‘ship in a bottle’, but that does not interest me.
I’ll think of something.