Shut Up

Have I explained the concept of "shut down?" I think I might have touched on it but here's a recap.

In our business (pulp and paper construction) we typically work on or modify machinery that is either running or is isolated and the rest of the process continues to run. It is very rare that an entire paper mill is shut down. When it is shut down everybody switches to 24 hour manpower and everything is planned to the most minute detail on how things are supposed to work to get along the critical path to get it back up and running again. Costs are not spared during this time because there are few costs that can compare to the losses a paper mill incurrs while it is not running. You wouldn't think paper would be that valuable but it would seem that it is. After everything is completed on the construction side the commissioning process begins. This entails checking each piece of equipment individually and then as a whole to ensure everything is running properly. Shut down is this whole process.

We have been in shut down mode since the 6th of June. Commissioning was scheduled to begin on the 18th of June. We were supposed to be out of here on the 22nd of June. Hi, it is June 30th and finally, as of last night, we are once again making paper. Yes, we are late. I'm sure it was costly. Luckily it had nothing to do with me or my company. There are going to be some meetings today. Most call them "Come to Jesus" meetings. It is where the finger is pointed and the blame is set. In all my years in this business I have never seen more setbacks in a shutdown. I won't list them all but the number one problem seems to have been manpower. From the top down. There's been much speculation about all of this and my thoughts are this:

Shit might roll downhill but when it starts to leak it leaks from the bottom.

Now we are ready for a vacation.

In related news, should the end of a "shut down" be called a "shut up"?

Maroons

Some of the maroons I work with:
Another office manager and I were talking about the west side of the building.

Her: Which side is the west side?
Me: You know where the sun sets?
Her: no.
Me: Are you serious?
Her: I'm not good at geography.

shakes head

---

The safety guy is working up his total man hours for the month.

Him: I need a calculator.
Me: Use mine ( standard desk printing calculator.)
Him: No, that's too big.
Me: It isn't big at all.
Him: It's too complex for what I need.
Me: What do you need?
Him: I'm totalling my man hours and need a small calculator.
Me: Aren't you doing it in excel?
Him: Yeah.

shakes head

Archway, you are a friend indeed

Not only did I live through the vacation I managed to have a good time. This was no small feat considering we spent approximately 40 hours in a vehicle during the 4 day trip. Most of these hours included a 6 year old and a 1 year old.

I realized that there was no Springer episode to report. I know you are all disheveled by this news. I aplogize. I'd make one up for you all but I'm trying to stick to a nonfiction type blog and leave the fiction ones for those that like to change users' cursors. I promise not to change the cursor when you visit my blog.

The wife and I did some accidental mudding. We were out looking for the graveyard of the moment, following our trusty county highway road map, when the "road" narrowed considerably. It started out as gravel, moved to dirt, and after it narrowed it turned into rock and then mud. As you can see, we came to an impasse. Yes, we did get stuck. No, we didn't need a tow truck. Yes, the wife was the driver when it became unstuck. Yes, it was more fun than I can describe in any amount of words and I think she agrees. Yes, there was a cemetery somewhere behind me in this photo. No, we did not make it there. I think it will still be there when we make it up next and the weather isn't being so... wet.

aaaaand they're off! Well, almost

Tomorrow begins with a bang of sorts. After working about 100 hours each for the last 2 weeks we set off for a bit of a vacation. We're going to start by driving about 13 hours (700 miles) to end up in northern West Virginia. I doubt I'll be blogging much from up there because I've yet to see an outhouse with wireless (or for that matter, even wired) internet access.

I plan on taking lots of pictures which I don't plan on sharing here. It isn't that I don't love my faithful readers it's just that I understand our tastes may vary. One of the highlights of my upcoming trip is to visit 11 different cemeteries and I doubt you want pictures of tombstones or a textual rundown of the excitement such things would evoke in me.

Another highlight of my trip will be to attend a family reunion with my father's family. I'm not what you'd call close to my father's family. The last time I saw anyone from my father's family other than my father was 25 years ago. The last time I saw my dad was 3 or 4 years ago. The point being... do I intend to find them odd enough to blog about? I'd bet the farm on it:

• Dad finally got indoor plumbing (quit using the outhouse) in 1980. I'm hoping they converted every outhouse into a cellular phone tower. I suspect this will not be the case.
  
• The nearest motel to my dad's is an hour away. Rural isn't a concept around there, it's a way of life.
• every road has "knob" or "creek" in its name. Some have both. I wonder how well the GPS will work around there.
  
• I have a cousin who is the real estate agent for the area. Not A real estate agent, THE real estate agent.
  

If I'm not back here by next Tuesday, send a rescue party. PLEASE!

A picture is worth 2,328 words

I'm at the age where I can reminisce about things most bloggers weren't even alive to experience. I remember the bicentennial celebration in my home town (1976 for those that can't do math.) There were covered wagons and people dressed up like they did on Little House on the Prarie. I remember everything was red white and blue, even my birthday cake that year. It was a flag and fantastically decorated by my patriotic mother. I loved that cake. It was the last cake I really remember loving. I guess it spoiled me because I no longer like cake. Well, unless it is uncooked. Then I like it but I think they call that batter / ecoli.

The picture you see there in the upper right is me (on the left) in the fall of 1989. This came up because some friends of mine and I were talking about the BMI (how fat ya are) and how I think it is hosed. In that picture I am 175 pounds and 72 inches tall. I wasn't only slim, I was dangerously so. Shortly thereafter I ended up in the hospital for dehydration and malnutrition. Ok, maybe the malnutrition was more the McDonald's food and beer and the dehydration was.. well, McDonald's food and beer. Anyway, I was 1.3% fat away from being "overweight" in that picture. No sir, I was not overweight by any means. I was fit and trim and even though my hair was goofy and for some reason I was wearing a cutoff shirt it was the best summer of my life.

Let me tell you, oh my beloved readers, about the mirth that summer has in my memories.

Backstory: After high school I moved to the nearest little city after getting a job in a factory that made and duplicated cassette tapes. (I knew about Melissa Etheridge long before she hit the shelves and I love her music to this day.) I obtained a little apartment near work for a pittance. There was a bedroom/living room and a bathroom. There was no kitchen or any kitchen type facilities. McDonald's was directly in between work and home so I ate almost all of my meals from there. I know, some guy made a movie and he got fat or whatever. This has nothing to do with that. I didn't get fat. I also didn't get healthy but I'm over that part of the story so if you are reading solely for that, start reading from the top again and maybe you'll get your fill on the second helping.

Back to the Backstory. The bedroom was perhaps 10' x 10' and the bathroom was maybe 8
x 8'. We had a tv, a NES, and a cd player. Oh, and a bed. Yes folks, we had a bed. Singular. That will come into play later. There were 2 windows that opened up on to the top of bay windows for the apartment downstairs. You could get out there and stand but there really wasn't enough room to turn around. You could, however, crawl over on to the main roof of the house if you wanted. When school let out my cousin (the one on the right in the picture above) decided it would be fun to move in with me and work in that little city for the summer. His dad said he could do it since I was always the good kid and whatever the stipulations were. Anyway he got the ok and moved in. My cousin has always been a bit more outgoing than I was and soon after school let out and he arrived the good times began.

This was to be the summer of sin and near death experiences and we were but 19 and 17 (almost 18.) We had no idea.

It started off tamely enough, we met some locals and my cousin invited them to the apartment. Eventually we became a very large group of friends, sometimes numbering in the teens, doing whatever it was we were doing at the time. Maybe we got in with the wrong crowd or maybe it was just the right crowd for us. We were adventurous people, always have been. Our tales are varied and I can't ever figure out the timeline quite right but I'll give a few incriminating snippets from those I remember.

We both worked evenings and therefore almost all of our adventures happened after midnight. Our friends were night owls anyway and none of them seemed to suffer the wrath of parental supervision but almost all of them did live at home so our place was the place to be since we were the only ones with a non-parental atmosphere.

One of the first outings I recall was going to the stone quarry late at night. I don't recall how we got there. I think we must have walked. None of us had a car during this summer and in retrospect this is a good thing. When we got to the quarry we stripped down to our skivvies (males and females) and proceeded to "swim" in the silt (or whatever you would call the very very fine mud they had there.) It was mud so smooth you could have put it in a bottle and sold it at a spa. There were several pools of it and after everyone was sufficiently mudded up we trekked down to the river for a cleansing dip and moved on. Could have died on that one. That mud is quite like quicksand. But our skin was never smoother.

After some time we realized we didn't really like walking from one side of town to the other. One of our only hangouts was the Perkins restaurant on the other side of town. It was almost the only thing that was open while we were busy harassing the wildlife and looking for trouble. We decided that since the train passed through on regular intervals, was sufficiently near our apartment, and went relatively near to the perkins in question it was the obvious choice in mode of transportation. The train carried logs mostly and the logs were strapped on with large versions of ratchet straps. We decided the best way to get on was to get a running start along side the train, grab a strap and hold on as tightly as possible. Odd as it may sound, this actually worked. We were able to cut off quite a bit of time using this method. Unfortunately there never seemed to be a train for the return trip. Since we had getting on the train under our belt the next hurdle was to get off the train without dying. We didn't have quite such a scientific method for this one. It was just jump and roll or jump and try to stay upright. Many a bandaids were used as a result of derailing from the train. Regardless we continued to use this method for lack of any better transportation. Too many ways we could have died to even count.

Unsurprisingly, most of these efforts were done under the influence of alcohol or drugs. Sometimes both. We weren't the choosy sort, we took what we could get. At one point a new waitress appeared in the world of perkins and her name badge said, "Trudy." Her name is not being changed to protect the innocent because a) her name wasn't Trudy, they required them to pick a name other than their own for 3rd shift due to weirdos and stuff and b) she wasn't as innocent as one might think a 3rd shift server at a small town perkins would be. I was typically intoxicated enough that the word "Trudy" was too much for my inebriation to allow so she was henceforth named "Tree" which stuck with all of our friends. Tree was to become the first of many.

Tree liked our group and started hanging out with us when she wasn't scheduled to work. One evening we decided to head down to the river for a little swim. We trekked over and being that we wanted relatively dry clothes to walk home in everyone got nekkid and hopped in. The guise of darkness kept all the perky bits hidden except for when someone would do the swing off the rope that was hanging from the tree at the end of the little islet where we had stationed ourselves. Anyway Tree made it clear that night that I would be hers, yes I would be hers. Being of sound mind and body I concurred that I would be hers yes I would be hers. I'm not sure if it went down that night or some other but somewhere in there I was hers for the night. While I'm supremely happy I didn't get rooted into that situation long term, it could have been a very sticky situation.

Another water story, and somewhere I have a picture of this one as well, said cousin and I decided to jump off one of the railroad trestles into the river. With my sharp math skills and some timing we decided there was approximately 27 feet between the trestle and the water. Two weeks later a kid died doing the exact same thing. His feet got hung up in something on the bottom of the river (because you couldn't help but hit bottom) and he never came back up. We never did that again for obvious reasons.

A lot of times, and this means almost nightly, we'd do our nightly adventure and then head back to the apartment. We'd have however many people were still left and we'd be a bit tired. Did I mention we only had one bed? I slept with more people that summer than I have my entire life. And by "slept with" I mean, like fall asleep and they fall asleep too. I recall waking up one time to find 6 people in bed, me being one of them. Luckily, we all knew what was allowed and what wasn't and we didn't have that one person in the crowd that felt grab-ass was a good way to pass the time. I'm not saying there wasn't any of that going on but both parties were expressly or otherwise consentual and we never had a problem with that.

One consentual person was "Colleen." Again, name not changed because she was so far from innocent it would have made a vegas whore blush. Her consent was always given to whomever asked or didn't ask. She knew it and everyone else did as well. If Colleen was known to be there and you didn't see her it meant her and whoever else was missing was out on the roof of the building doing what she did best. If the bed was moving and there were several people already there you could bet Colleen was involved in some way, shape or form. Call us pervs or young and dumb or whatever but there was quite a bit of that going on. Maybe we were all just a bit too comfortable with each other or whatever but it's just the way it was. At some point during the summer her family was moving away so we came up with a little going away song for her:

Bang Bang Colleen
Colleen bangs all day
Who we gonna bang on
When colleen goes away.

I think she liked it.

Another bed story. So we're sleeping away, mid morning or possibly early afternoon, it was too early to tell. There was the cousin, his girlfriend, and me. there might have been more but I don't recall. There was a banging at the door which usually indicated the arrival of the police but this time we weren't to be quite so lucky. The girlfriend was wearing these odd pants that tied up the sides in these metal rings. She had the pants on so that was good. The pants were not tied and that was bad. I don't know if cousin had clothes on or not. Me, thinking it was the cops coming to harass us about the various shortcomings of the previous evening or where and when to put our trash, threw the door open. I don't know if I had clothes on or not. I certainly had on underwear at the least but I doubt much more than that. My eyes grew quizzical at the odd set of people outside my door. From behind me I heard, "Oh, hi grandma, I'll be right there." heh. The cousin still has nightmares about that one. While I was in bed with grandbaby I wasn't in with the consent and didn't partake of the fruit so I found it to be little more than pretty damned funny.

Ahh, reminiscing. If I had to relive one summer for the rest of my life it would be that one. It was filled with Danger, lust, humor, friendship, and all the other things they stick into movies. There were police incidents, other women, missing pillows, interesting ways to obtain alcohol, my only spandex story, vomit stories, drug induced problems, quarks of the human anatomy and the chain I'm wearing around my neck in the picture stories, and yet not a single arrest, std, or serious injury story within our circle of friends. We tempted fate as often as possible and somehow came through unscathed. I can't recount all the stories here but I'll always think of them when I see a picture from that era.

I think if I had it to do over again I wouldn't have worn the cut off shirt. That is all.

Bloggers are an odd bunch

I spend a considerable amount of time reading blogs and sometimes it is nice to see the face behind the words. When the mood strikes I will click on their profile and see the picture. My eyes aren't as young as they once were so sometimes I'll click the link that says "View full size."

I'm here to tell you that not a single blogger I have viewed full size as of yet is over 4 inches tall. Does Barnum & Bailey know about this potential stash of freakshows?

Naming convention

Dear readers:
I apologize. I have led you astray. I shall come up with a suitable punishment for myself (unless you feel you have a good one in mind) and I will amend my evil ways.

This blog has nothing to do with three word slogans.

...there, I've said it.

I know, I know, you thought I was going to start spouting new Three Word Slogans for your use in the marketing meetings but alas I have let my readership down.

Oddly enough, and I do mean oddly, I get a lot of search engine hits for people actually looking for advertising slogans. Here's what I picture:

[random background music, 2 guys sitting in a basement/bedroom/apartment]
1: Dude, killer J Dude.
2: Yeah, primo shit. It's hydro dude.
1: I have the munchies dude.
2: Yeah, me too. Let's Just Do it!
1: heh heh, yeah, just do it.
2: heh heh
1: [thinking] Wait a minute dude, "Just do it" is for women's douches or something.
2: Nuh uh dude, it's the McDonald's slogan
1: Oh. Yeah, that's right.

mmm hmmm, and that's how I see it in my mind's eye. I don't see it that way in the eyes in my head because they like see reality and stuff. Either way, I'm lovin' it.

Things I don't understand

There are a lot of things I cannot comprehend. Maybe if I list them here for you, my devoted readers, you can explain some of them to me or something.

1. Prescription drugs. I understand things like pain meds but why are some drugs by prescription only? For example, If I can get more canoeing and horseback riding done if I take that herpes medicine, why can't I go get some myself?
2. Our current pro-racist environment. It wasn't ok when it was the whites against the blacks but it's ok when it is everyone versus the hispanics.
3. Wars. What in the world are we fighting for?
   
4. Accountability. Have you noticed the lack of response during the Katrina hurricane is being pinned on one man? Well where was his boss? And his boss? It's the government, it goes right up a chain of command until it terminates with the president.
   
5. Boxing, participants and fans. WTF people, why are you either beating somebody up, watching somebody beat somebody else up, or getting beat up? Where's the fun in that?
6. People that try to get out of work, as in missing days of work for their employer. If you don't like the job get another one. If you only want to work 3 days a week check out fast food,retail, realty, you name it.
7. People that speak their own breed of English. Dear Ms. McDonald's money taker lady, it isn't "Fo Fitty tree" it is Four Fifty Three, please speak so I can understand what you are saying. Also, cent is singular and cents is plural. My change is never "One Cents."
8. Big Bass. If you are the type of person that likes to have earth moving sound in your car remember that the guy next to you at the red light might be trying to listen to NPR or something.
   
9. Houseflies. I can't think of any possible reason for them to be on this earth.
10. 5 AM downtown Savannah. Is Bay street really a NASCAR circuit that I don't know about?
11. Road work. Why would you close 2 of the 4 lanes of a bridge for repairs and then nobody ever does anything to it? The only thing this does is increase wait time and wastes hundreds of thousands of man hours. Get your contractor out there and get the job done.
12. Basketball. Too much sprinting.
13. Horoscopes. Yeah, well, I'm guessing there's more than 12 categories of people, but your horoscope might tell you otherwise so believe what you want.
14. DUI laws. You know in some states they can arrest you for DUI even if the car isn't running? If you have the keys in the ignition to run the radio in your driveway and you've had too many to drink, BAM! you're a baby killer and you're going to jail.
15. Howard Stern. Dude, the act is old. Give up on it, move on. I don't get it, who is still listening to this drivel.
    
16. American television viewers. Get off the Survivor crack pipe. I don't understand what the fasicnation is with watching other people in a fake reality.
    
17. Nascar. They are not STOCK cars. "N"orth "A"merican "S"tock "C"ar "A"uto "R"acing. "Stock" car racing, if that is what you are interested in, is actually part of the SCCA. Also, while we're on the subject... Why is it "C"ar "A"uto? Isn't that redundant? In the same vein, could the nascar truck races be deemed illegal since they are obviously very very clear that not only does it have to be an auto (automobile) but it also has to be a car, which trucks obviously are not. There is nothing about nascar that makes sense to me.
    
18. People that would still work if they won the lottery. I'd work. I'd work on my buzz wherever I was, my tan when I was in the sun, and my blog. But to do a daily grind? Nah, I don't think so.
19. Metal is bad for microwaves. Chef Boyardee microwave bowls contain metal. Yet nothing explodes other than my stomach and colon. Now how is that possible?
20. Myself. Sometimes I just don't understand me. I don't think there's any helping that but I thought I'd throw it out there.
    

Speed Beef

True story. Grab a cigar and a cognac and I'll tell you what yankee hillbillies are like.

My grandmother was thrifty to say the least. She also worked several jobs and was always on the run. During this time we lived in Northern PA within the boundaries of the Allegheny national forest. Yes folks, we had deer. Lots of em. If you WANTED a deer you could get one any time day or night. If you DIDN'T want deer you could get one any time day or night.

One night grandma got home from one of her jobs and she let us know that she had a deer in the car. She explained that she had hit it and decided to keep it. (Grandma drove a ford escort by the way.. no, not a wagon.) Well it kind of dawned on me that the car most likely only knocked the deer out. Let me take a journey into that story before we jump back in line with this one.

Let's just say there was a deer. And let's say that somebody's parents thought this deer was dead. I mean, you know, just for supposition's sake. Weeeellll, while having said deer in the trunk of the car, driving down the main street of the town we lived near, the deer decided it wasn't dead anymore and began attempting to extricate himself from the vehicle. Did I mention it wasn't deer season? Anyway, the deer kicked out both tail lights and the parents made it out of town without attracting the notice of the game warden or the police but had to do some repairs on the car and here's my question... How would YOU open the trunk of that car?

Anyway so I'm wondering how she knew this thing was dead. She had bludgeoned it with the tire iron, a 4 way jobber. Yup, that's my grandmother. She kept it and had it butchered and whatnot. She seemed to have a 'butcher on the sly' but I don't know who he was or where he was. I'm sure it was better this way.

As time went on it seemed that this happened on a more and more regular basis. She would get her car fixed and then when she maybe hit one on accident she'd kind of go on a spree and she'd be bringing home one a week until she would get her car fixed and then there'd be a gap between killings... err, I mean accidents.

We came to calling this "Speed Beef." We still do, all of us grandchildren.

Do I need to mention I have eaten a lot of "venison"?

Time to make the doughnuts. Or is it donuts?

Rewind back to last Wednesday, a week from today.

I called Krispy Kreme (the company with the great spelling and employees that match their mantra) to order a few doughnuts. I needed 800 doughnuts. Yes folks, 800. I figured I'd better call in advance and let them know. The person that answered the phone asked me to hold for a manager once she was sure I wasn't kidding around and I spoke with the manager of the day whomever that was. He assured me I would be able to pick up the doughnuts on Tuesday morning at 6 AM sharp. I accepted his offer of goods and services and the deal was made.

I showed up at Krispy Kreme at 5:15 AM to find they don't even open their doors until 6. I'm not in Podunk here, this is a city of 100,000+ with a county (which is basically the city plus suburbs) of 200,000+. Would it not make sense for a doughnut shop to open early? In their defense they were open until 11 PM on some nights because, you know, doughnuts are now a great after supper treat. Yeah, that's it.

All tangents aside, I backed into the parking spot in front of the door, opened up the back of the jeep and sat there and stared into the front window for 45 minutes while the employees went on with their business of "Time to make the doughnuts" (which I know is the competitor's slogan ... the BETTER competitor I might add) Oh wait, this was all tangents aside. Well there goes that theory.

Anyway they knew I was there. I was obviously going to be packing a jeep full of doughnuts since they could see me with no back seat (remember I was backed in and the back was completely open) and everything prepared to stuff a lot of doughnuts in there. Nobody came out to question me so I assumed they knew I was the guy picking up a metric assload of doughnuts. (A metric assload is exactly the same as an Imperial assload only you move the decimal to the right 4 times and then move the decimal one time to the left.)

The doors opened promptly at 6 as promised and I was the first to the counter. I told them who I was and what I wanted. The counter person went into the doughnut factory part that was behind the magic glass wall and looked at the rolling carts of doughnuts. After a few minutes she came back and asked what company it was for and my name again. Giving her the information I began to have a sinking feeling. A minute or two later she arrived without any doughnuts and simply said, "The manager will be right out."

To which I responded, "I don't have any doughnuts, do I?"

She mumbled something.

I had 400 people expecting doughnuts and that this point in the game I was hosed. No doughnut factory in town could help me and I knew it. While I was extremely upset I also realized that no matter what I said or did I would not walk out of there with any doughnuts. The manager of the day came to speak with me and informed me that it seemed nobody had written down the order. She advised me to call later and speak with the General Manager of the day and perhaps she would give me a price break.

In a self indulgent moment I blurted, "I don't want a price break, I want someone to come explain to 400 people why they don't have doughnuts." I shouldn't have said this. The counter person didn't have anything to do with the mess up and neither did the manager of the morning.

Upon my arrival to work I had quite a few people to deal with, explaining the situation and apologizing for having them come in early to help pass out what wasn't there, and I ended up getting more and more infuriated about the mess up. I decided to wait until later in the day to call back and speak with the General Manager of the day because I did not want to take out my ire on anyone in particular.

I finally calmed down and made the call. I explained the situation and the woman was not exactly "cold" towards me but it was very close. I was trying to maintain professionalism so I simply said something to the effect of, "I will be buying about 800 doughnuts tomorrow. Will I be buying them from your business or do I need to look for other alternatives?" She warmed right up to me and actually had them ready and waiting when I got there.

In other news, it is my thought that I could easily fit about 2,500 to 3,000 doughnuts in a 2006 Jeep Wrangler Unlimited that has the rear seat removed. This picture shows 804 doughnuts somewhat neatly stacked and I think I could have easily tripled the size of the stacks plus put more on the wheel wells and in the passenger seat.

Sorry the picture is so dark, it was like early and stuff. And my camera isn't all pro or anything. But at least I gots me some dougnuts.

Now how ironic is it that I don't eat doughnuts?

The yellow thing on the right is an extension cord (120v) because I have a manly jeep with 120V AC power in it. And 4 Wheel drive! And a miniature jeep on the dash! With Robin driving! Oh yeah, And a metric assload of doughnuts!