An inquisitive old fart with a camera
Noticed this at my shade-tree mechanic’s today. Apparently someone is not real good at putting tools back – note missing wrenches on left, and outlier orange-and-black screwdriver (red arrow).
Apparently spray-painting outlines of tools involves issues as well. Yellow arrows point to vice grips camouflaged with black paint, so that they disappear into their black outlines.
Which is OK. I don’t really want a mechanic working on my car with vice grips.
…in the back of a 1950s truck. ‘Twas a notably hot day; fortunately rain came later to break the heat.
After a horrible experience with an aluminum shop that truly cares for neither quality nor customer service (if you’re local, think of the initials of the major competitor to the major hamburger chain and look on the Ruta Interbalnearia), a friend referred me to a friendly mom & pop operation.
Satisfied with my first window, I went back to them with a simple diagram of what I wanted next: a ‘bulging’ window for the kitchen. I had a diagram from the top. I had a perspective drawing. They had no idea what I was after? A hood for a stove? This went on for a while, until finally, exasperated, I said se llama ‘bay window’ in ingles, at which the proprietor threw his hands in the air, with a prolonged aahhhh! and slumped back in his chair with a huge smile.
Problem solved! You just need to know to say boWINdow.
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New construction nearby.
I’ve been aware of something happening at the entrance to our country road. Today the profile rose into view – an earthbag house! I went to check it out. I’ve never seen something like this here, I told Liber, the owner. Nor have I, he replied, I found this on the internet.
More stormy weather in the middle of beach season.
Small truck with swimming pool.
Snoozing pool installer.
Reminds me of our pool delivery a couple years ago, at another house.
Our dog of twelve years, Karma, developed a tumor about six months ago, six months after I thought we would have to put her down because of a cyst forming on her spine. But she happily walked to the beach every day, and we watched carefully for any sign of discomfort, since we let the last dog Pandora hang on too long.
Last Friday, the tumor – size of a baseball – doubled (or more) in size, and the dog wouldn’t lie down or even sit, but stood all day, panting, or following us around. Our lovely country neighbor, a vet, came with her father in the evening, did an exam and announced that it was an edema which would rupture in a day or two – very ugly. It was our decision, but the dog actually made it. Calmly lay down on its side for the first time that day, eager for relief.
Digging the grave was hard – not emotionally so much as physically: clay.
Third pet buried in nine months:
I don’t have an update, but in November the Chinese were to start building the world’s tallest building – in 90 days.
Meanwhile here in Uruguay, it’s unlikely this 3-house project near us will be finished within 90 days of the promised delivery date (November 2012). By then the summer will be over, and the rental market dead until the next season starts, 9 months later.
Something I’ve noted before, but the 9s of Uruguay still amaze me. for some reason, it seems a majority of the population writes them backwards.
I found this sufficiently unsettling that I wrote the number myself, so as not to have to decipher 0P1 08P 338 on the fly.
The cloying heat yesterday broke into a downpour, turning our road into a river. This morning, heading back from the deserted beach, I noticed that one stream had formed a puddle in the road, full of tadpoles, most less than a meter from a ditch full of water, but with no way to get to it before car tires crushed them or they died in the sun as the rest of the water drained.
Surprisingly difficult to catch them with a cut-off plastic bottle, but I managed to get 50 or 60 – most of them – into the ditch, where they at least have the chance to grow into frogs.
And eat mosquitoes.