The reincarnation of Bigfoot

Before my unfortunate encounter with a suicidal side of venison Wednesday night, we had a good day. We visited my mom's house for the first time in over a week. Not much to do there any more except empty out the dehumidifier in the basement and check this and that.

This time, I had a couple things I wanted to do, and one was to take a few pictures related to the recent Bobo incident. First, I wanted to get a picture of the broken concrete where her chain (Bobo is a "she," by the way) got caught and where I rescued her.

So here it is, at the corner of my mom's garage ...

The chain was caught in several places, and I marked its path in red. I have no idea how the cat managed to get it tangled the way it was. But the only thing that mattered is that I got her free.

After that picture, I wanted a picture of Bobo herself, to go with that post. So we went to the neighbor's house.

My wife liked that idea because she loves to hold and play with cats--her own or any others she comes across--and they have plenty of friendly cats at the neighbor's. She went inside and brought out Bobo, who, as I said before, doesn't have a tail--she's a Manx cat. So here are the neighbor and my wife and Bobo. I'm sure you can figure out who is who ...



There are lots of cats in this house (which is why my wife likes to visit), of various sizes. One of the cats over there had multiple toes--I named her Bigfoot--but she had gotten killed, run over by a car in front of the house. It's a rural road, as you remember. During a recent visit (before Bobo's rescue), she told us about the cat's death and that one of her grandsons, who lives with her (her daughter died about a year ago), was all broken up about that.

Back to this week. The neighbor said they had been noticing something had been eating the cat food inside the house. One night recently someone saw a kitten getting a snack. Nobody knew anything about this kitten! It was a surprise to them. So she's a part of the family now.

She went inside again and came out with this little ball of gray fluff. "And look at the feet,"she said ...



No question about it. It's the progeny of Bigfoot ...

We left a few minutes later to do some shopping and then to visit my mom. It was a nice, sunny day, so we took her out for a ride so she could see how the leaves were changing color ...







I suggested that we stop at the house, since she was telling us how colorful those trees are in fall. One of them turns a nice red. Here's a picture I took earlier in the day ...



So we drove there, went in the driveway and looked around at the trees. Then I got an idea. "Would you like to see your neighbor?" The neighbor has always been asking about my mom and how she is doing--they were pretty good friends. My mom said yes, so we went down one driveway and up the next.

They were so happy to see each other again. Since my mom is so frail, I didn't think she wanted to get out, but I brought over a folding chair, and she sat right next to the car.

The cats were around;  my wife had found one and was cuddling it. Then the neighbor went inside for a minute and came out with Bigfoot Jr. and gave it to my mom.

Delight spread over her face. I can't begin to tell you how happy she was, just holding that little grey ball of fluff! It was, she explained, the first time she has held a cat or kitten in the two years since her fall, when she had to leave home and move into the nursing home. She sat and held the kitten for maybe about 15 minutes, just looking at it and petting it. Even talking to it ...



She has loved cats all her life. After she graduated from high school and was working in Iron Mountain (walking several miles back and forth to her parents' home each day; this was during World War II), she had a gray and white cat named Susie. She would often tell us about walking home, down the dirt road in the dark--and hearing a "meow" when she got to a certain place. It was Susie, coming to meet her.

That was over 60 years ago. She told the neighbor about Susie, and the neighbor immediately decreed that the kitten will be named Susie.

It could only be a visit. We all knew that. They don't allow nursing home residents to have pets. The little kitten would have to stay behind at the neighbors. But my mom told me later that she wants to visit again and hold the little kitten--along with visiting another neighbor who wasn't home that afternoon.

The visit at the neighbor's house was much longer than I expected, so we abandoned plans for a fall color tour--we had to get my wife home for her church meeting, and we were already running late. So we went to Hardee's, got our sandwiches and ate them in the car. Then we took my mom back to the nursing home, got her back in her room and drove off ... 40 minutes from our fateful rendezvous with that jaywalking deer. (F---ing deer!)

But as my mom was drifting off to sleep that night ... I imagine in her mind she was still holding that little gray kitten with all those toes.



Everybody say "Awwwwwwww!"

Close encounter of the worst kind

I am sooooo pissed. Really.

We went to visit my mom's house and my mom today, and things had gone really well. It was a nice day, and we had a nice visit. I'll write about that stuff later.

In a few days. Once I have a chance to cool down. I'm too mad right at the moment. Really, really pissed.

What happened to turn a good day upside down? I can explain it in the two words I said to my wife:

"F---ing deer!"

Yes, it's happened again. First time in nearly two years, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I think it's the third time it's happened since I got this car in 2003.

OK, here's what happened.

Our visit was over, and we were driving home. The sun had set about a half hour earlier, and it gets dark quickly nowadays. We were on Wisconsin Highway 70, our favorite path home. Not much traffic. I had my brights on, so we could watch out for deer. I was driving at about 55 mph, the speed limit.

I was hurrying home to get my wife to a meeting of the women's group at her church. I had to make the trip to the house some time--because I have volleyball on both Tuesday and Thursday this week, I couldn't go on those days. Friday, of course, I have football. We knew my wife would be about 20 minutes late. Well, because of the events of the day, we left for home later that we planned. But it was worth it, as I will eventually explain.

I had my iPod hooked up, and we were listening to a podcast of an old radio program. It was getting towards the climax, and we were listening closely to find out what Marshal Matt Dillon was going to do about an old woman who wouldn't give up her home, which lay in the path of a new transcontinental railroad. The miles were passing.

Then, in a flash, a brown mass raced from left to right into the car's path. It was a suicidal dash. No way in hell could anyone avoid a collision. Wham!

My estimate of the time between the instant I saw the deer and the moment of impact: about a half second.

I know the drill pretty well. I had my call phone along, and I was surprised to get a 911 call out that the nearby sheriff's office could receive. It's a very rural area, after all, but they are putting up more cell phone towers around here, and I'm grateful for that.

I had my camera along, and here's the damage to the car. Not pretty ...

That's the rising moon in the background. And that piece of red on the upper left side of the smashed headlight? That's a hunk of raw meat. Ewww!

Lying in the ditch nearby, was the jaywalker who caused this mess ...

It was already dead by the time I got there. It wasn't a large deer, but it sure packed a punch on my car.

In about 15 minutes, the deputy arrived, looked at my car, radioed in my information and then gave me his card. Didn't even look at the deer. He asked me if I wanted it, and I said no. The ravens and eagles will take care of it. Tomorrow I have to call my insurance company, and then I'll go up to the collision place to get an estimate. My ballpark guess is $3,000.

The deputy pointed out the big black bumpers on the front end of his car, to protect against just such incidents. He said deer are all over the place tonight.

I know. That's why I had the brights on--the deer are especially unpredictable in fall. And there are so many of them around! They breed like crazy here in the Northwoods, and we have had a string of mild winters lately. On top of that, fewer and fewer people are hunting deer. Fewer hunters + mild winters + breeding deer = more and more car-deer collisions.

F---ing deer!

Collisions with deer are regarded as an "act of God" by insurance companies, so this won't affect my rates. But I'm wondering if we getting near the point where they decide the car is totaled. The car is a 2001 model and has 134,000 miles on it. What if they decide the amount needed for repairs is greater than the car's value? If that happens, what happens next?

The car is drivable (biggest concern: the right-side headlight and turn signal are completely smashed out, as you can see), and there are no leaking fluids. The engine isn't affected, and it drove well the rest of the way home.

But I could have gone without having to go through all this again. What a pain.

F---ing deer!

Have any of you ever been to a fishboil?

Well, that's not surprising. Until last Saturday, I hadn't either. But a local veterans post held one that afternoon, and my wife and I decided to check it out.

This took place at the Beechwood Hall, a former church way out in the country, built about 100 years ago ...



Off to your right is the fishboil. It consists of several things. One: some fish, Lake Superior whitefish, bought right at the Lake Superior shore, about 70 miles away ...



Two: you need a hardwood fire that is really burning hot ...



And you need a big aluminum kettle in which is boil the fish ...



It has a double boiler inside. The fish are in the top level. Some potatoes and onions are in the lower level. The stuff looks pretty good, right, guys? ...



OK, folks, pay attention. They hold a lot of fishboils in Door County, Wis. (that big peninsula north of Green Bay), and the vets at this post thought they would try it themselves as a fund-raiser. It's called a fish boil because ... well, maybe you can figure that part out. But the highlight is called the boilover.

The fish naturally give off some oil as they are boiled. How can you get rid of that oil and improve the taste?

First, you take some kerosene and pour it into a glass jar ...



Next, you have someone ring a bell ...

That's a vital part of the boilover--because people want to watch what's going to happen next ...

OK, everyone watching? Assume the stance. Bend over a little bit, hold the jar in your right hand and swing it forward ...



And then stand back. Fwoooshhhh!!!!



The fire really kicks up, which makes the boiling water even hotter. Just as intended, the kettle boils over, taking the oils with it ...

So that's the show we saw.

I must confess that I like other kinds of fish more than whitefish. But this one was worth it for the show. By the end of the afternoon, all the fish had been boiled, served and eaten, and the vets had made some money for their scholarship programs.

That's called a win-win situation.

"It was a dark and stormy night ..."

In the past, you have seen some of my adventures while covering high school football games. Last Friday night marked the latest chapter.

This one took place on the other side of the county. It had been stormy all day, and a cold front was advancing on the area; we already had some tornado and severe thunderstorm watches in the region. As I ate my early supper, I followed the progress of some big storms moving our way from the southwest, through northern Wisconsin. The cold front would be passing by later, bringing in strong winds.

In short, a fun night was in store for everyone at the game. Rain looked almost guaranteed, so I grabbed the red raincoat I bought about two years ago for just such occasions. Then, off to the car.

It was already raining by then, and I saw lightning as I neared the field. Due to the lightning, I knew things would be delayed: Michigan rules say no sports can be played outdoors when lightning is around--the game can only resume 30 minutes after the last flash is seen.

After arriving, I sat in the car for a while until the rain stopped. Then I walked around near the officials' room. At one point, they were right about to call the players out--and then there was more lightning. Another 30 minutes of waiting. The clouds didn't look promising ...



Here's the view to the west, the direction that the front was coming from ...



The officials met with the coaches to discuss whether the game should be rescheduled for Saturday...



The visiting coach wanted to play--otherwise, they would have two 160-mile round trips instead of one.

The original start time was 6:30 p.m., and at 8 p.m. the players were called out to warm up. No more lightning--just a light rain with a little breeze. Everyone took their positions, the captains went out for the pre-game coin flip, and the band came out, passing right in front of me.

The camera marked the time of this photo as 8:06:13 ...



Just then the wind kicked up. In about 30 seconds, it was blowing hard. The band did an about face and headed back towards the school. 8:06:34 ...



As they retreated, the rain started falling heavier. And heavier. 8:06.51 ...



It quickly got much worse. It was the front, blowing through town. And I mean blowing. 8:08:08 ...



And in those conditions, we took off our hats for the National Anthem.

The wind blew hard (fortunately, at our backs; too bad for the other team) and the rain fell hard for most of the first quarter. Both conditions eased off in the second quarter, but it didn't matter: Everyone was pretty soaked already. At least it was a warm rain. The game went on. Here's some first half action ...



Meanwhile, what about me? I was on the sidelines standing in the rain with my notebook, taking notes of each play, as usual. Ordinary notebooks quickly turn to paper pulp under these conditions. But mine is no ordinary notebook. It's made by Rite in the Rain and is "A unique, all-weather writing paper created to shed water and enhance the written image. It is widely used throughout the world for recording critical field data in all kinds of weather." (A description on the back of the notebook.

Some of the pages got a little warped, and my pen (an ordinary Bic pen) was lighter than normal. But I'd just brush the water away with my hand and take my cryptic notes. The pages stayed as strong as ever. Here's part of the first quarter ...



During the summer of 2006, my wife and I visited an earth sciences museum in Neenah, Wis., and that's when I found out about Rite in the Rain. I ordered some of their notebooks immediately. This was the acid test, and the notebook had no trouble whatsoever.

That's the report from the game I went to.

As for the game I didn't go to:

That was in Houghton, about 100 miles to the north. That game started at 6 p.m. (our time--7 p.m. up there), and the storm didn't hit Houghton until late in the first half. Thunder. Lightning. Heavy rain. Strong winds. Houghton had gotten two inches of rain earlier in the day, and the soaked field was soon waterlogged. The players were sent off the field for an hour.

The wind was a lot stronger up there--the coach I talked to said it was like a hurricane. The home team once tried to punt into the jet stream--and the ball went backwards 14 yards. They didn't try that again.

The track around the field was flooded. Coach: "There were places on our sideline that were under 6, 8 inches of water. I'm not kidding you. I had my cleats on, high-tops, and there were places I was walking that I was sinking right up to the top of my high-tops."

Geez, I hope he doesn't catch a cold. Nothing so exciting at my game. The grass was very wet, of course, but the field held up very well.

By the way, both our teams won. That's nice, too.

Before the storm

Questions, questions. I've got many questions on my mind as I'm writing this.

A few of them will get answered tonight: Will it rain at the football game I'm covering? How much? Will there be high winds? Thunder and lightning? Will they have to suspend the game? Or even complete it the next day?

The weather forecast says it's supposed to be windy; a squall line should be moving through the Upper Midwest late this afternoon, with thunderstorms, high winds and maybe even hail. When the storms move through, there could be lightning. If that happens during the game, they suspend it until the lightning is gone--they don't mess around with that. If it doesn't go away, they could call it a night and complete the game on Saturday (when the weather's supposed to be much nicer). If it's just rain and wind, though, they'll play through it.

Five years ago, I covered a game that was suspended by lightning and then ended early when more storms moved in. Ironically, only a few drops of rain fell--until I was driving home. (I had some photos from that game, but the backup CD I made with my crappy old work computer can't be read by my sleek new 'puter.)

A year or two later, I covered a game in Houghton--and also got to see the last few minutes of a game close to home in Crystal Falls, because that game had been interrupted for about two hours by a storm. That one ended at about 11 p.m.

Anyway, this weekend should be much less stressful for me than the one before. If I can find a little time, I plan to do more work on this blogsite. I've located a decent looking shoutbox, so you should be seeing that before long. I also worked on a header image last night.

Like all the rest of you, I'm working on this rehab project little by little as I can find the free time. There's not a lot of free time in September, of course.

****

As for the last blog: Aren't the rest of you into economics?

Loonie tunes

Parity. It's pronounced parrotty. Awkkk!! Polly wants a cracker! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Awkkk!!!

Well, it's not about that.

It's about the relative value of currency. Here is a personal example. Back in 2002, my wife and son and I crossed over from the western U.P. to the eastern U.P.--to Sault Ste. Marie. And then we crossed the International Bridge and were in Canada--Soo, Ontario.

Our first stop (after Customs) was the big green-roofed building just off the bridge, an Ontario tourism site, with plenty of brochures from all over the province and also a bank where you could exchange your U.S. dollars into Canadian money. At that time, we got back roughly $1.55 Canadian for each dollar we paid--at the time a Canadian dollar was worth about 64 cents in U.S. money.

Sure, the prices in Canada were a little higher, but not enough to offset the exchange. We visited around, took a Algoma Central train ride that I love up north to the Agawa Canyon, visited a few stores and stayed two or three nights. A nice little vacation for us and David (still living with us at that time). He was all excited by the different currency.

In late 2004, we went to the state high school football finals in Detroit, and we crossed into Windsor, Ontario. The exchange rate wasn't as favorable then--about C$1.21 for each US$, 82 cents U.S.

In December 2005, I made a three-day visit to Canada (visiting my friend, S). The loonie (the Canadian dollar--named for the loon on their $1 coin) was getting stronger. Now it was worth 85 cents U.S.--about C$1.18 for each U.S. dollar. That was my most recent visit to Canada.

That brings us to today. The loonie has been on a roll lately, getting stronger, rising up through the 80s, then the 90s, and today it reached parity: which means that US$1 equals C$1. This hasn't happened since the mid 1970s, from what I understand, and the trends are unmistakable. The Canadian dollar keeps on getting stronger relative to the U.S. dollar, which is, shall we say, struggling in international financial circles.

That means that those long-maligned loonies are worth a lot more than before. It means U.S. goods are cheaper for Canadians to buy, and it means Canadian travelers will find some bargains south of the border. We get CBC's Winnipeg channel, and they are carrying many commercials from the Minnesota and North Dakota tourism offices--just south of Manitoba, you know.

The door swings the other way, too. Canadian tourism officials are worried. In July, travel from the U.S. fell to its second-lowest level in 35 years, says another article I read today. That's a big deal for many places located just north of the border.

I had been hoping we could visit the Soo and make another trip on that train this summer, but all the work at my mom's house ended those hopes. So, we thought, maybe in 2008. But now, with the U.S. dollar getting steadily weaker, I don't know. We may still do it, but we'll have to save more money.

Of course, we all know why this happened. The war on Iraq. The U.S. made a terribly costly mistake ... and the maddening part is that I (and many other war opponents) could see exactly what was going to happen way back before the invasion started: That we'd get bogged down over there for many years, that it would suck up a lot of our federal budget, creating huge budget deficits (especially since the U.S. was cutting rich people's taxes at the same time); and that it would kill and maim many of our country's best young men. What a terrible waste!

I saw it all coming. So did many, many others. We tried out best to be heard. It happened, anyway. It's no comfort of all to say "I told you so." To be honest, I didn't foresee all the problems with the insurgents or the inability of Iraq's new "government" to patch that nation back together.  When I think of the Iraqi government now, Humpty Dumpty comes to mind.

Anyway, back to today. The two lines have crossed. Canada's dollar is now worth more than the greenback. It has happened before. It's no disaster. It's mainly symbolic of what's been happening to the U.S. dollar's value in the last few years.

On a related topic ...

I don't know if you know, but Canada no longer has a $1 bill. They used to have a large $1 coin, like the old U.S. silver dollars. Paper money that is in heavy circulation doesn't survive long. It gets worn out as it passes from hand to hand to hand to hand. They last 21 months--then they are taken out of circulation and shredded. Wikipedia says that 45% of U.S. currency is $1 bills.

Coins, on the other hand, last for many, many years. The U.S. Mint created a new, smaller $1 coin. They misfired on the first one, but the golden dollar, with Sacajawea on it is very nice. They just started a series of coins with the presidents on them, like the state series of quarters.

But nobody uses them. You almost never see them in change, and if you ask for some at the bank, the tellers have to scurry from booth to booth to find some.

North of the border, Canada replaced its large dollar coin with the loonie. It was introduced in 1987, and, like the U.S., the government wanted its people to use the coins instead of paper money. But there is always reluctance to change. How did they do it?

Very simple! They started withdrawing $1 bills from circulation and stopped printing them altogether in 1989. People had to get used to the loonie, and they did. Now it's no big deal.

South of the border, we're still printing millions and millions of dollar bills each year, at taxpayer expense. Nobody is using the dollar coins.

Here we go again ...

Hi, folks. We are starting this process yet again. I have started so many blogs over the last couple weeks, since efx2 ran around on the Reefs of Phishing, that I have run out of creative introductory things to say. (As if what I had to say before was all that creative, but never mind about that.)

My dearest hope is that this is the very last blog I will have to inaugurate for a very long time.

With that said, I'm signing off. All you guys and gals who knew me before, please stop by and say something nice, and I will try to register you as friends or buddies or acquaintances or camp followers or whatever the current term is. Theme decisions ... they can wait.

I just want to have the blog thing working smoothly again. You guys are a part of my life, and when I don't/can't hear from you, I feel sad. Feeling sad is no fun, and I haven't had a lot of bloggy fun lately. I could use a little fun.

A new doghouse

This is just a really fast note to let all of you know that I have set up a new blogsite:

http://drdog.efx2blogs.com

My first post there is up. (Just a very quick one.) Efx2blogs is based on Wordpress, where I had already set up a site in the last few days (dual posting with this one). I got to meet Wordpress over the last few weeks and liked it a lot. The Livejournal site was immediately abandoned.

This one? I'll likely dual-post here for a while, but odds are that efx2blogs will be the main site, especially if I get the comments and new post notices going. Keith is working hard on it.

If you haven't yet but would like to, go to www.efx2blogs.com to register a blogsite. They will send a reply that may wind up in your e-mail spam folder (mine did)--so watch for it.

The rescue of Bobo

Who is Bobo? We'll get to that eventually. Along with an explanation of why Bobo is really lucky that I drive a small car.

First, background for those who are just getting to know me. If you know all this stuff already, feel free to skip the next paragraph.

My mom went into the nursing home about two years ago. She lives about 50 miles away. This summer, my wife and I have been cleaning all the possessions out of her house, so we can sell it. It's been a lot of work for both of us (and we have found a lot of crazy stuff; plenty of photos to come), but we are nearly done now.

Our plan this Wednesday was to take a pair of pole lamps and two typewriters home with us. The thing is, I drive a smallish car, a Mazda Protege, and they don't have a lot of trunk space. We could only take the lamps home by folding down the rear seat. That was our plan.

But we also planned to visit my mom, and we guessed (correctly) that she would want to go out to supper with us: We normally drive to the Hardee's in Iron Mountain, about eight miles away, because she loves their chicken sandwiches and strawberry shakes. She is 85 and doesn't eat too much. So we have them cut in half, and I (and my wife) team up on the other half.

We couldn't put the lamps in the car right away because when we take her out, my mom goes in the front seat, and my wife sits in the back. That doesn't work if we have lamps in the trunk, poking into the back seat. Besides, her wheelchair also has to go into the trunk. It's a lot of wrestling around, but we're getting fairly adept at squeezing that thing into the trunk and closing the lid.

So, we agreed, we'll leave the lamps in the house and return after supper to pick them up before driving home. No problem.

Sure enough, my mom broadly hinted that she would like to go out, so before long we were all in my little car, heading for Hardee's. We had our supper, took her back to her room, kissed her good-bye, stopped at K-Mart (my wife needed new shoes and cat food--not for herself; for our cats) and then drove back to the house to get the lamps.

By now, it was getting dark--the sun was already setting. I turned the car around and backed it towards the back door, in order to put the lamps in the trunk easily. We saw a cat next to the garage, just sitting there and looking at us. The neighbor has cats, and they roam around, so maybe it's one of hers, I thought. After I stopped, I went around to unlatch the back seat, while my wife went to make friends with the cat.

Then she called me over. "It's caught," she said.

Sure enough. The cat was wearing a collar with a chain attached, and the chain had managed to get itself snagged on some broken concrete near the corner of the garage. It was caught in two places. The cat didn't seem to be stressed about it, but it clearly couldn't get free, either. I tried a tug or two on the chain, but it didn't work. By now it was getting pretty dark.

Whose cat is it? We looked at the tags on the collar, and I was able to make out the name of a city in Wisconsin, about 150 miles away. I tried tugging again, got nowhere, and told my wife to get the neighbor over--and a flashlight. She left.

I tried wiggling the chain, turning it this way and that. No progress. Then I tried the other end of the chain and turned that while pulling it up and out. Suddenly, it got free, and soon it was free at the other place, too. Freedom!

I picked up the cat and the chain and walked over to the neighbor's back door, where my wife was waiting. It was a pretty big cat, a good armload, and I noticed that it didn't have a tail. For its part, the cat was quite content to be carried.

I arrived at the same moment the neighbor got to the door. When she saw what I was carrying, she started laughing and crying at the same time. "That's my Bobo!"

Bobo is a Manx cat who has been a part of her family for about 16 years. Besides not having a tail, she has been declawed, the neighbor said, so she would have been defenseless if some mean critters had come along.

But now Bobo was safe again in mom's arms, and she hugged her. She also hugged both of us. We got our lamps, put them in the trunk/back seat. Locked things up, got in the car and headed out into the night. "You made a friend," my wife said. (Well, she was a friend already. In fact, it's her son and daughter-in-law who want to buy the house.)

As I was driving home, I was thinking: If my car hadn't been so small that we had to return to the house to get the lamps, we wouldn't have been there to rescue Bobo from his predicament. And then what would have happened?

Falling into fall

What's the latest? Today I heard my first from Keith since the efx2 merry-go-round broke down.

If you go to www.efx2.com, it will forward you to a message from Keith (dated today, the 12th) about what is happening and what is going to happen.

Of course, if you had been visiting KingofAnkh's place at Blogspot all along, you know most of this stuff already.

****
Anyway, as for me, geez, the weather has abruptly gotten cold here. Last week, it was in the upper 80s here and humid. Since then, the weather has gone from mid-summer to mid-fall without a minute of transition.

Today, it's in the upper 50s, with a chance of frost tonight. I'm driving to Ironwood to cover a football game Friday night, and they are predicting widespread frost. Better take along a sweatshirt for that one!

I haven't been getting many photos with my own camera lately, but I have been busy with the new work camera. (If you remember me writing about that at efx2.) It really does a slick job. Indoor shots and low-light shots are much nicer, the action is frozen, and you don't have to deal with "shutter lag."

Shutter lag? Better define that. It's the interval between when you press the button to take a picture and when the picture is actually taken. For most people taking pictures, it's not a problem. But I'm taking sports pictures, and every 1/10th of a second of shutter lag is a major concern. The "superzoom" camera I had before had major shutter lag; by its nature, a digital SLR doesn't. Much more responsive.

I covered volleyball last night, and my major challenge was anticipating the action--pointing the camera in the right direction. But when I fired, I got some great action shots--right at the instant the girl was hitting the ball. With the older camera, I had to "pre-focus" to lock in the focus and exposure settings and then press the shutter button before I wanted the picture taken. That doesn't sound very effective, and it isn't.

As I was telling the coach later, my old camera had the decency to die on me just before my vacation trip to Green Bay and Oshkosh in early August, thus giving me a golden opportunity to choose a replacement. We both laughed. She liked the action shots I got, too--I showed her some of them.

I have to wrap this up. My wife and I are going to my mom's place later this afternoon to get a few things. Not much more needs to be done with the house. Most of the stuff that had to be done has been done ... and now we are mainly waiting on the sale.

A double life?

The wheels in my brain have been running quite a bit lately. Can't you hear those gears clashing?

The topic of my ponderings: What should I do about a blog site? Stay here? Find a new home? Both? (It won't be neither.)

One factor working in Blogger's favor is that many of my best friends at efx2 have set up shop here, and I already had my old blog from long ago here. So this became, by default, my temporary home.

But I'm not moving in the furniture, the boxes of books, the CDs and the movies yet. Some problems I had with Blogger before are still evident. (Either that, or I haven't found the solutions.)

One is that when my friends make new posts, I don't get notified. And when someone comments on my posts, I don't get notified on that, either. So it's very hit and miss right now. And, damn it, those are features that I really like--they make life a lot easier and build up this sense of "community" that I like.

Indeed, the whole concept of "friends" seems to be missing. Or else I missed it.

So while I'm here, I'm not sure how long I'll be active. On Monday night, I set up an account at livejournal.com. I'm not exactly sure whether they have the features I want--didn't look at it too closely--but it's a free site (yeah, I know, you get what you pay for) and it's been around for a while. Like Blogger.

The bottom line is that I plan to double-post here and at LJ for a while. My address there is http://drdog.livejournal.com. (Don't go there right away, though. I haven't even written a first post there yet.)

Of course, efx2 could suddenly spring back to life. But it's been a week now, and I have to be realistic.

A refugee again?

The more things change ...

I last wrote here nearly two years ago, when Modblog was on the critical list. I eventually jumped ship (just before that ship went glub-glub) and emigrated to a nice new home at Efx2. Things were pretty good there for a long time.

But now Efx2 has been missing in action for the last week or so. And I've been missing my little virtual town and the friends I have there. I like to keep up with them/you, the ups and downs in their/your lives, what they've/you've been up to and so forth. Of course, I like to tell them/you what I've been doing, too. That's hard to do when the service isn't working.

So I'm back over here, at least for the short term. I have found some Efx2ers here, including some who go back to those Modblog days, and hope we can keep in touch while the wrenches and hammers and circular saws are at work at Efx2. I hope it will come back. Like in the Tom Petty song, I don't have to live like a refugee.

Guns and woodpiles

We had another long day at my mom's house on Wednesday. Not in the usual sense, either.

The work of moving stuff out of the house is close to over, but a few things remained, and one of them was resolved today: disposing of my dad's guns.

My dad had three handguns and two deer rifles. One of the rifles went to his brother after he died (12 years ago), and the remaining guns were still at the house. I don't hunt and have no use for the guns, so I'm hoping to sell them.

I contacted a gun dealer in the Iron Mountain, and he came up to look at the guns today. We agreed that he should sell them for me on consignment. But that took us up against the law.

Here's the situation. I live in Michigan. The dealer lives in Michigan. The house is in Wisconsin, just across the river. Follow me so far?

First of all, there was no problem with the deer rifle. It can be sold however we can.

The handguns, however, are subject to a number of state of Michigan laws. Michigan has mandatory handgun registration. (Wisconsin doesn't.) The dealer told me he had to get permits for the guns at his police station so he could legally possess them in Michigan. He didn't expect problems--but he told me to keep my cell phone on today, just in case.

About a half hour later, while we were near the nursing home, my cell phone rang. It was the guy. I need to sign off on them in person at the police station. So off we went.

Actually, the situation was a bit more complex than that. First, I had to get the paperwork done to register the guns to me. That involved looking up my police record and stuff like that--background check, I guess they would call it. Then they did a check on the guns, with serial numbers, to make sure that they weren't stolen or anything. That took more time.

Then I got some green forms I had to fill out. It was a triplicate form on one sheet, and I had to fill out three different sheets--one for each of the three guns. Then some more forms. In the end, I was now recognized as the licensed owner of the three guns.

After that, the procedure started again, for the process of transferring the guns from me to the dealer so he can sell them. More paperwork, more green forms to fill out (though not as many). They had already checked that the guns weren't stolen, and they had the background of the dealer already.

The whole process took about 80 minutes. It just required patience with the forms and all the repetitive stuff. There were no problems: just all the jumping-through-hoops procedure the cops (and we) had to follow.

It took a big hunk out of the day. The weather, by the way, was about 90 degrees and a little humid. Fortunately, the police station was air-conditioned.

We eventually got out, got supper and visited my mom (about two hours later than we planned). We took several more boxes home, and there's little left at the house to take back, aside from pieces of furniture that wouldn't fit in my car in a million years.

****
It was about 90 degrees F today (32C) but that will be ending late this week. Early next week, we are supposed to have highs about 60F (16C), and the lows will be around 40F (4C). Quite a cool-off is in store.

****
We wound up visiting my father-in-law over Labor Day weekend. It could be our last visit to him.

Some of you may remember that he had a bad case of pneumonia last spring. He's been back home all summer, but he told us he doesn't feel he has a lot of time left; the pneumonia has never completely left him. That's what my wife had told me earlier--when the cold snaps start coming this winter, that could finish him off; a lot of old people in ill health die when the weather turns cold. He is 79 and looking more frail than when we last saw him in June.

We had thought we might hang around home and sleep a lot over Labor Day weekend. But then my wife thought about her dad and decided we'd better see him. She was right, and even with all the driving (there and back on consecutive days) I'm glad we went. Our next chance wouldn't have come until late November, because of my work.

We had a little cookout, based around loading his basement with wood for this winter. I did some of the unpiling and piling--and let me tell you, it's much easier to undo something than it is to do it. My guess is that he should have enough wood down there now for the next three winters.

Which, under the circumstances, I find a bit ironic.

On the loose at the fair

We made a late decision (only finalized Friday) to join all the motorists over the Labor Day weekend here in the States. We will visit my father-in-law and my wife's sisters and brothers, leaving Sunday afternoon and returning late on Monday. Our destination is in northwestern Wisconsin, near Ladysmith.

At first, we both wanted to just relax at home over the long weekend, but we finally opted to hit the road anyway. My wife doesn't think her dad will be around next spring, due to his various health problems. If we don't go now, our next chance won't be until November, in the brief interval between the fall and winter sports seasons.

We've done the Labor Day trip before. Some have been memorable. Last year, we were about 30 miles down the road when we got a flat. No garages were open and we didn't want to make the long trip with the skinny replacement tire, so we turned around.

The most memorable Labor Day trip was in 2002. Some storms were brewing on Labor Day as we got ready for the trip home. The weather radar showed some heavy stuff heading our way. We left my FIL's place and stopped at Ladysmith to get a drink before heading back east. Storms were on the way; we could feel it, so it was like a pit stop at an auto race.

About 20 minutes later, a tornado hit Ladysmith, causing a lot of damage. We didn't know about that, of course, until we got back home. We turned on The Weather Channel to find out what the storms were doing ... and saw aerial shots of tornado damage in the town we had driven through only a few hours earlier! We called right away; everyone was OK, and none of their homes had been damaged.

We'll see what happens this time.

Whatever it is, I promised more photos from the county fair held here in mid-August. It's just a small, rural fair--only 13,000 people in the entire county, after all!--so its orientation is understandably farm and garden and crafts, along with a midway, of course.

Usually we spend a lot more time at the fair. This year, it was just Saturday afternoon. I like to prowl around with my camera. But all the work at the house has taken a lot of starch out of us, and one afternoon was good for us.

(I was also there for the tractors, demo derby and horse pull. But that was at the grandstand, at the bottom of the hill. The rotunda, midway and exhibit buildings are all on the upper level.)

Anyway, the camera came along with my wife and I, so here are some of the things I saw as we walked around. First, we checked out the midway ...




People of all sizes were trying to win stuffed animals ...





She was waiting for customers.

Then we visited the exhibit buildings to look at the critters. It's easy to get thirsty at the fair. This guy had the right idea ...






Ready for a little nap, like these ducks?


We visited the exhibit buildings to see the blue ribbon winners ...








Plenty of just plain folks enjoyed the fair ...


Then, back to the midway to look at the people on the rides ...




And a fun time was had by all.