Yes, I should. I'm on vacation (except for the half day I worked yesterday, a Mandatory Meeting. "Faster-That-Light Travel and Cultural Drift." 'Cos you get kinda unstuck in time: go away, come back, six months for you, seven for all the folks t'home, no problemo until you have done it, like, twenty or thirty times and when you get back, everybody has sparkly telephones that also do dishes and wind the cat or something) . (Or maybe that's BS and the meeting was a little more prosaic; but not, mind you, all that prosaic).
Hey, I received my Official Chief AJ (Target-Model) Quick Point Red Slingshot yesterday and it is waykewl! Aim is just about as "instinctive" as claimed when you hold it properly. Yeah, yeah, this whole business of throwing rocks, arrows, bullets or whatever is learned behavior, but do enough of any one of them and there are some basics that sink right in. If you shoot, you can shoot this thing and be hittin' plenty near what you are aimin' at, too. However, don't use Superballs, no matter how many you have or how brightly-colored; those thing just zing right back at you and end up -- h'mm, where did that one go? Er, at least that's what I heard from somebody. The preferred target projectile is lead shot in about the .375" or bigger (.45?) range -- time for a Gander Mountain road trip! I need to get either a heavy-duty BB trap or maybe an archery gel-block target, too.
Woodworking projects are at the top of my vacation list; I'd try house-painting but the weather is really unfavorable: too hot and too rainy.
The Tree Guy is supposed to be back soon. I sure hope so (as in, I'll call him this morning). He's left a rope in the hackberry tree, which has a dead limb drooping ever closer to the power drop to the house.
The State Fair is this week and I am going. Other people can go or not but I wanna. I missed it last year and the year before and I am darned well not gonna again. It is filled with delights and wonders! They have heffalump ears and (even better!) funnel cake, and a real Ferris wheel, too. Not to mention old engines, steam engines, tractors from the dawn of tractorhood to the latest-greatest, plus Barto's greasy spoon serves up real Hoosier breakfasts if you manage to get their early. Then there's the covered bridge the Boy Scouts built and all the various and sundry critters, from pigs, baby goats and horses about ten feet tall to a tiger or two from the Tiger Refuge. Not to mention the Red Gold booth in the Horticulture Building (best canned tomato products in the world), and all the apiarists offering a zillion different kinds of honey (some of it sealed in handy drinking-straw containers, a quick tube of delicious energy), honey related items, and thick, sweet-smelling cakes of ever-useful beeswax. And.... Aw, heck. It's a State Fair; you either know or you've missed one of life's delights.
Snark later, if I feel like it. Gonna go write something about hammers now.
CHICAGO RAILROAD FAIR, 1948
4 days ago