Blatheration

Another:

Yes it's true. I do like mandolins. This is not an Uzi. The primary difference is that Uzis kill instantly. This is a fine instrument to have handy when you have company who won't get the hint and go home already. Not much of a problem here, but it's always nice to be prepared. No, we usually have our guests begging to leave withing a few short hours of digging postholes, screeding concrete, or installing shingles. No, the fun never ends around here. On the other hand, it is getting harder to find good quality guests. This summer's "tear off the old roof and install a new one only with dormers" season is rapidly approaching, so if you are planning a visit to NW Arkansas and have experience with tearoff and re-roofing, we would love to have you come for a "visit". Bring your own tools. We'll provide the water and nails.

Back from trip, still waterlogged.

Lucky you. More later.

What am I doing? This:

My favorite album of all time, now available on the computer courtest of Former Idiot Nephew #4, primary offspring of Mrs. Cuddles. I like the album art mainly for it's faggoty allusion. Heh.

In other news, Mrs. Doclee, Miss Crabgrass and I are heading wy down South this weekend for a fun filled trip to Austin TX. I hope we manage to make it to the Spam festival. Mrs. Greenjeans will be sorely disappointed if we are unable to supply her with the latest in Spammery. #1 Son has invited us to visit and check out his groovy new digs, and I expect to be entertained lavishly. Anyone want to bet that it rains all weekend?

Have a good Memorial Day Weekend and amid the family and fun, please try to remember that many good men have died keeping this the kind of country where we have the freedom and peace of mind to enjoy it.

Cousin Bitty's Visit

Cousin Bitty and her lovely daughter, 2nd cousin G.I. Jane were only on hand a couple of days, but a good time was had by all. Since I had only Seen her Mom, Aunt Malarky once in the past 25 years or so, Cousin Bitty startled me in that she looked just like her Mum as I remembered her only not as tall. Of course, I was shorter then. Still am, too. Though both ladies passed on the oh so fun activity of recreational alcoholism and racing a tiny motorcycle around Gramma Tudi's back yard, some of us were up to the challenge:

This was before a judgement lapse on the part of Doclee allowed the 4 year old Miss Whirlwind to drive a go-kart into the parked tiny motorcycle, shattering it's rear bodywork and reducing it's cuteness by a factor of 2.5. Though in my defense, you can't really expect a 4 year old to remember Left from Right at 25 miles per hour. I was reminded soon after why none of my nephews are allowed to come over and play with Uncle Doclee without aduld supervision. Grownups are such buzzkills.

In unrelated news, the shingles on the side of the fort have now been stained, 7 years after promising Mrs. Doclee that it would get done.

In further unrelated news. Mrs. Doclee now has running water in her shoppe. Cold only, don't want to spoil her.

For more unrelated news, check back in a day or so. If I don't have any, I will make some up.

This is a 20 something year old MASTERCRAFT tire. Can you spot the problem?
You would think a bright guy like myself would have spotted a thing like this earlier. Now an excuse to buy new tires. Sigh

This is part of a quilt

Our very own Miss Crabgrass forever immortalized in fabric. The next panel below is Mrs. Nautifish who refuses to allow the use of her likeness unless compensated by obscene amounts of loot. Or rum. Gramma Tudi is the culprit. She spends her days hand sewing ridiculously small pieces of fabric into these quilty masterpieces. And no, she won't do Rat Fink. I already asked.

Distant relative to visit today. A cousin of mine who I have not seen since 1976 and does not like to be called "Bitty" any more. Bitty it is then. She is the daughter of Auntie Malarky, who is the sister of Uncle Wes, who is cool because he always worked for International Harvester, the Gold Standard of American overbuiltness. See?

This is our '71 Travelall. It's heavy and fast and ugly. Also cheap. Amazing what you can get for $500 when you don't discriminate.

It's Alive!

Beautiful Trixie is now back on the road, no longer destined to cower under a sheet. Naturally, I chose the only 5 minutes that it rained yesterday to go for a ride, but it was all for the betterment of motorcycledom.
Incidentally, this is a 1998 Triumph Thunderbird Sport that I bought new, and they definitely don't make them like this any more. It's heavy, fast, and funny looking. Just the way I like them.The day I bought her, I was fully intending to procure a new Sportster, but the dealer had such a bad attitude (Harleys are all about attitude, you know) I couldn't understand how he stayed in business. He lasted another year. Could be a lesson in there somewhere.

Ongoing projects:

Some knives I was working on before the deployment. D.K. Lee, fine handmade knives. Yes, I am that D.K.Lee. Of course, Mrs. Doclee has caused a migration from my formerly spacious quarters, but as soon as I get reorganized and un-distracted work will recommence. Should you find yourself needing a really nice handmade knife, send me an email at doclee462@yahoo.com. They aren't cheap, but yours will be the only one like it.

All is well now.

The previously inserted images did not insert...previously. They are available in the 'vast holdings' thingy over on the left. Here are some properly inserted images for your viewing pleasure. P.S. it WAS a separated tread. BAD.

The replaced wheels. Now with glimmering stainless steel wheelcovers, only available on the Futura sport coupe and only in '61 and '62. Now she looks about like she did when she rolled off the assembly line back on May 22, 1961.

Close-up:

Fluffy the blind security fish:

Auto Woes

Horrible vibration in suspension of beloved Falcon requires my attention.
http://www.typepad.com/t/app/gallery/manage?__mode=edit_photo&photo_id=6061542 It could be a bad wheel, which would be bad indeed, because these wheels happen to be made of unobtanium, a rare material indeed. But then again...
It may be a bad tire, since they are at least 20 years old and I am an idiot for driving on them. But they are so cool.
Fortunately, I have the original wheels and tires stored in a hermetically sealed container for just such an eventuality.
http://www.typepad.com/t/app/gallery/manage?__mode=edit_photo&photo_id=4945224
I know you are concerned. I will keep you posted.

Ceilings...nothing more than ceilings...

In keeping with the rural decay motif of Mrs. Doclee's shoppe (if you spell 'shop' like that, you can charge more), a new overhead was created over the weekend. What was once used to shelter tender young chickens from the elements has been given a second chance and is now hiding all manner of wireage and pipeage. Thus:

Using only $40 worth of rusted and worn corrugated steel, (Thank you, Beam Builder Billy) $12 worth of screws, 3 bandaids and some assorted plumbing parts, rural decay has been brought to the big city. As usual, My lovely bride and I managed to compress an 8 hour job into 20, by the expedient of never being able to agree on any detail. Oh the "big picture" was easy enough: Take tin and fasten it to the ceiling joists. With screws? Nails? Oriented east to west or north to south? "Dolly, move please. Thank you". Tin snips or metal cutting saw? "You paid $75 for a light fixture?" "Two of them?" Eventually the thinking was completed and work commenced, going surprisingly smoothly until Black and Decker decided to even the score for the old drill in the pond episode and tried to drive a screw through Doc Lee's finger, failing miserably due to Doc Lee's remarkably high bone density. "Dolly, move please. You're getting blood on you. Thank you". Mandolin practice will be curtailed for a few days, I assume. Once the blood slicked decks were attended to and a tiny band-aid was firmly duct taped in place, work continued, only to be interrupted by a dinner engagement with Mr. Karl Rove. Mrs. Doclee and myself, along with 40-odd other couples were invited as guests of honor at the annual Lincoln Day dinner. The highlight of the evening was the result of Mrs. Doclee's sneakiness; flanking the stage were two large projection screens presenting a slide show of pictures from Iraq and Afghanistan. I see my name flash by and behold...Mag-Neato in all her glory. Miss Secret Keeper (Daughter's preferred nickname for her mum) had arranged for all my Dumb-Vee pictures to be on display, including the Lois Griffin "GOT MILF?" magnet. I'm so proud. Mrs. Doclee got some flowers. That was Saturday.

Sunday: Happy Mother's day, now back to work. Mrs. Doclee began her day by substituting a water pipe for a finger bone and attempted to flood the shoppe. "Dolly, move please, you're getting wet. Thank you". A break in the action while a repair is effected. Water main off, go to Gramma Tudi's house ("Happy Mother's Day, Mom, I need to borrow Grandpa John, a torch, some solder and a pipe cutter"). With Grampa John's expert help, needed because I still can't find my plumbing tools, order and a modicum of dryness was restored. "Dolly, move please, you're on fire. Thank you". Tin snipping and electrical fixturing was completed as seen in the following photo:

Thank God it's Monday. I needed a break.

Go here. Thank You

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