The Quest Continues!

While previous posts have placed a fair amount of focus on the birth of my living room, I have been working on another room in a parallel process. This room is to be named my Hobby Room and/or Office. It is the tie down space for my wireless network and lap top when it isn't out roaming the house. To transition the office space from mere office to hobby space, I purchased a shelving unit that came with a secret identity: Work Bench.

Now I only needed something to validate the shelving unit's separate identity. I mean if there was no crime, would Clark Kent really need to be Superman? or Bruce Wayne - Batman? While I'm sure at least a few of you could mount a serious argument as to the contrary, the simple answer is no. So I went in search of my crime, I mean hobby. Where better a place to look than:

Ah, yes, HobbyTown USA, with it's conventional English defying title is the IIT nerds' batcave. It's got gears, motors, RPGs, rockets, models, legos, and erector sets. I suppose the only thing it's really missing is misc computer parts, but we've got online stores, junk yards, and thrift stores to meet those needs.

When I walked in, the (I'm assuming) owner, asked me if he could help me with anything. "Hmm... Nope. I'm just looking for a hobby, and this seemed like the aptly named place to find one." I wandered around looking at everything for a good 30 minutes. I think I hid my desires well enough to seem somewhat normal; I kept the drooling to a miniumum and did my best not too oogle too much.

Having watched me do a circuit or two, the owner asked, "Can I answer any questions for you?" "Uh, yeah, you know I just need something to build. I'm interested in an RC car kit, I think." Following those magic words, the wall of cars dwindled to about 3 that were actually meant to challenge the builder a little. It's amazing what talking to a sales person can do!

I am now the proud owner of my very first truck. It doesn't really get me from point A to point B, it needs a little work, but it gets great gas mileage! (I know sometimes my jokes are lame.)


So Work Bench is now secure in its identity as a work bench versus a storage unit, and I've got something silly to spend excess money on... wait a minute... My goal is just to get my fingers moving, my brain thinking, and possibly grow a hobby.


As I checked out at HobbyTown USA, the owner asked, "Do you want to purchase the transmitter, receiver, batteries, charger, motor, servo... "

As he droned on, I casually took note of the growing price of this new hobby, and told him, "You, know, I think I'll hold off on those."

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, I'm sure I'll be back."

And then, as I walked out the door, I'm certain I heard an evil cackle followed by, "Don't I know it." Perhaps this man, not unlike Work Bench, has a secret identity. I'm fairly certain he went home that night and told his wife they can now afford the new boat...

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I love you all and miss you more than you can imagine. I hope you are enjoying my updates. I appreciate the feedback I've received, and ask that you please keep it coming. Being all alone out here (cue the mini violin here), its nice to know you are out there. :)

Below, you'll see pictures of step 1: removing everything from the box and step two: the progress I made in the first night. I've done a little more since these pictures, so I'll update you on that later.

Mixed Nuts and Third Degree Burns

While I did combine the two items in the title, it wasn't in the kitchen, and fear not, my apartment complex is still standing with its pretty pretty pink glow.

I hate to say it, but work has become a little mundane. I think this is perhaps an inevitable thing that my trusted elders whispered would happen, but the idealist in me shrugged it off and cannon-balled onwards.

So I've begun a new quest! I've gone out in search of other things to stretch my heart and brain muscles. When I first began working in the shipyard, one of my instructors was telling a tale about some of the softball teams that form each year throughout the shipyard for tournaments and league play. I recall a general rule and a law from his story.

General rule #1: Many teams form around shops, codes, and ships. The people who work together, play together. This general rule applies to all teams except for the Mixed Nuts. That team, as the name indicates is a smorgasbord of players from all across the ship yard. That team is a powerhouse.

Law #2: "If you play softball, they will find you." This was spoken just as you read it. It is a law similar to gravity. (they being one of the various teams)

Earlier this month I traveled back to Chicago both to attend a wedding and to visit with friends. One of my intentions was to see members of my old softball team out there and to potentially play with them if they had a game. I mentioned plans off hand in conversation to my supervisor talking over coffee one morning in early July.

He told Connie. Connie told Gloria. Gloria plays for THE Mixed Nuts.

Invoke general rule #1 and law #2.

I now play softball two nights a week with THE Mixed Nuts, a powerhouse team with a 9 year championship reputation. I, being the calm collected, never flustered person that I am, felt absolutely no pressure when I first stepped out on the field with such a team.

Our first night out we went into extra time to win, and I only suffered minor bruising when a 200 lb man refused to slide while I was attempting to turn a double at second. The runner was called out at second and due to interference the second out was called at first.

Our second night out was a little less intense competition wise, especially when the sticks woke up late in the game. I had just hit a single and I was standing on first leaning back to listen to the first base coach, Jerry (our fearless stand-in leader from the first game). Up to bat was a kid one year out of high school with some college level baseball under his belt. "Now, if he gets a hold of this ball, you best take off as fast you can because he may just try to catch up to you. He'll at least push for the double." Yeah. Okay.

Sure enough, he hit the ball, and I took off as fast as my out of shape legs could carry me. My head was in the game and I was loving it. Rounding second, headed for third, I heard the third base coach shout, "Down!" and just like old times, my body responded immediately. As the cloud of dust settled, I was filled with pride. I knew I was safe and in part because my slide made it difficult for the third baseman to catch the ball. Wahoo!

As more dust settled, my competitive, exhilarated, athletic ego also floated down from its high, and the stupidity of my actions began to flow right out of the pretty pink road rash on my leg. "Ha! It's just a scratch, right? Play on!" scoffed my CEAE (we like to use acronyms at work, so I give you the acronym of the day)

The remainder of the game was kinda like a new dance: hobble, hobble, water, napkin... swing the bat, hobble, hobble alcohol whipe, SCREAM... 3 outs in the field. You get the picture I'm sure. CEAE provided enough protection from the pain and provided plenty of laughter for my teammates.

Based upon the definition of burn degrees here, I've determined, in my non medically trained expertise, that a deep tissue second, or third degree burn was the result of my CEAE and my general stupidity. The past week has been a great deal of fun, mixed with a little bit of worry, and quite a bit of pain. In all honesty, I was actually conducting a scientific study (stretching my brain muscle) the entire time. The result of my study? Law #3

Law #3: When one follows the advise of a an understimulated CEAE out to play for the first time in a long time and one doesn't wear the proper protective gear, one will experience stupidity in its purest form. One will also pay for said stupidity both physically and financially.

I hope you all can learn the same lesson without the same experiences. :D

IT'S ALIVE!!!

"Quickly Egor, throw me the remote!"
Okay, so that may be a pretty lame background for this blog, so I'll leave it here and carry on. That being said, my living room is finally actually alive.

While my Aunt Priss and Uncle Dave were out visiting me last weekend, they had the pleasure of watching me spend my own money. You might be thinking to yourself, "Big deal. You spent some money. Congratulations. Whatever." But to my loving parents that paid for my upbringing (a very comfortable one, I realized while I still had an unliving room), this is a pretty new experience. Such an exciting event, that it warranted a phone call from my aunt to my mother on the way home from the furniture store.

They were such great guests; they had no problem shopping with me. It actually worked out quite well for me. We went to Ashley's Furniture store again, home of "John," great cookies, and of course furniture. I have yet to meet Ashley... One of the greatest things about this particular trip to the store was the added company. As it turns out, when I walked in the store with more distinguished people, the stalkers flocked to them, and I was free to shop un-accosted. Then once I found what I was looking for, I simply had to indicate to their stalker, Nate, that I was actually the one there to spend money. We very swiftly exchanged information, I signed some papers, and the delivery was scheduled.

So my living room went on looking like this for a week longer:


I woke up this morning to brew some coffee and await the delivery of my long awaited living room life blood. Around 10 am, my phone rang. It was my couch. He was just calling to tell me he was on his way home. So now my living room lives:


You should also note, the wonderful quilt that adorns the back of the couch. It is none other than a Rosemary Benger Handcrafted Original. I've kept it hidden safely upstairs away from all the traffic until today. Now it too has a perfect home where I can see it daily and remember the people who love me. :)

Other news on the day? I officially became a Washington State resident this morning and I am renting a tv for a little while.



This is the part where I most ashamedly apologize for the scarcity of my blogs. I'm sorry. I do try to keep up with them, but I doubt you really want to know every detail of my daily adventures... You'd likely stop reading after you heard about subway for the 5th time that week.

I trust you are doing well, and I look forward to hearing from you! (That, in case you were wondering is where I ask for comments, emails, and updates on your life.)

Sublimation [(sub-luh-may-shuhn)]

In chemistry terms, sublimation is the process by which an element goes directly from the solid state to the gaseous state without going through the liquid state. To my knowledge, this process is instantaneous.

You, believe it or not, have probably seen this occur. Dry ice for instance undergoes sublimation. So if you've ever been to a Halloween party with the steaming punch, you've seen this happen. As it is not yet Halloween (despite what Hobby Lobby may be selling), you are probably wondering why I am rambling about this technical term...

Well I recently witnessed the sublimation of an orange. One second there was an orange sitting on the anvil beneath a 400 ton hammer, there was a large bang, and the orange was gone. It was magic if I've ever seen it. I suppose the orange didn't become a gas as there were some remnants scattered about the forge shop, but it might as well have. None of the pieces were dripping-wet-orange-juicy particles; the debris was dry sweepable particles.

This is what I did at work about a week back. I watched oranges explode. Jealous?

We went on a tour of the forge shop. While the orange was certainly a highlight, watching the shop guys at work was certainly a treat as well. We got to see them move a glowing hot piece of metal out of an oven over to the same hammer capable of orange magic, where they proceeded to turn a cylindrical shape into a rectangular prism shape.

I never would have thought operating a 400 ton steam powered hammer could be considered an art form, but I do now. It took three guys. One guy moved the metal around with a set of tongs, another provided shaping tools, and a third worked the hammer with a set of two handles. At times it was almost as if the hammer guy gently tapped the metal, asking it to please change form. Utilizing such heavy loud equipment, communication is key, and just another talent of those three workers. You could tell that there was constant conversation back and forth, but none of it was audible (with the steam running, the hammer dropping, and the metal deforming, talking wouldn't stand a chance at working).

When they were done with their art, the foreman turned to explain a few things to us. I was a little overwhelmed and staring like a small child, so many of the details were lost on me. However, one thing did stick: hand safety. He pointed out that the tong guy and the tool guy never crossed the imaginary boundary beneath the hammer. Even when placing the orange (not super hot, like the metal), the tong guy used his trusty tongs. The foreman explained that the steam pressure could let off, and the hammer could fall unexpectedly. If a hand happened to be underneath that hammer at such a time, hand sublimation would occur. The owner of the hand wouldn't only be out one hand, he'd be out one life too! The sudden pressure change within the blood vessels in the body would cause his heart to explode. I believe him. I don't need to hear the story of how this was discovered, nor do I need to witness such a story myself.