politician at the Stewarts
Saturday, November 5 2005
This morning I dropped Gretchen off at the Kingston bus station so she could go down to Manhattan and do the work she does down there on occasion. I picked up some liquor at a 9W liquor establishment, a couple thermometers at Target, some hardware at Lowes, and a tank of Citgo gasoline (thanks, Hugo Chavez!), and headed homeward. I made a last stop at the Stewarts in Hurley for Gretchen-is-away provisions: ice cream and malt liquor (she jokes about this diet so much when she's not away that it's become a self-fulfilling prophesy when she is). Out in front of the Stewarts a hip square-jawed woman was having a conversation with a happy-looking hunchback, someone I've probably seen before but can't remember. The square-jawed woman accosted me as I passed her, asking me to vote on November 8th. Her name was Kate Hyman and she must have seen something about me that made her think I would vote in the direction to which she was aligned. It turned out that she was running for election in the Hurley Town Council, and she handed me a flyer. I didn't look at it; I stuffed it in my pocket and kept on task: buying provisions for this occasion when Gretchen is out of town. But then as I stood in line waiting to pay for my purchases, I heard an altercation going on outside between the Kate Hyman and one of Hurley's more traditional residents, a gentleman of perhaps my age but looking like a throwback to the late 70s, particularly with regard to facial hair. He was demanding of Ms. Hyman what her views on guns were. Apparently he didn't like her response, because he stormed into the Stewarts and started unloading on the guy behind me in line, not with a gun (thankfully) but with his mouth. He calmed down quickly because the guy in front of him was in complete agreement. Any politician who didn't love guns, who didn't rub them against her clitoris to pass the time, was unworthy of their vote. I walked out of Stewarts and thought I should give Hurley's would-be Town Councilwoman some moral support. She was making cringing faces at me as I approached her, so I asked, "So what was that all about?" I asked.
"He wanted to know what I thought about guns," she replied.
"I take it he likes them," I said.
"Oh yeah," she agreed.
"Well," I assured her, "there are fewer of those guys every day."
"Thank you," she said, as if I had endorsed her candidacy. I hadn't, but I'll be sure to vote for her come November 8th.
The malt liquor subtracted from my abilities for the rest of the day, so the afternoon tended to be more of a vacation than anything else, with lots of television and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. In going through my Tivo'd programs, I noticed that one of my favorite shows, House Detective has just been revamped and made cooler for today's hip urban young adults. Gone are the relentless corny puns and the mystery-style mood music, replaced with home inspectors having bleached hair and plumbers voted "sexiest plumbers in America." I kid you not. They've also slowed down the pace, only doing one house inspection per half hour show instead of two, though now you get to see the problems being fixed in the second half.
Two sister joists and the the original joist, with a space left for the rafter, under a pillar ultimately supporting the southwest corner of the solar deck, viewed from the garage (beneath the laboratory floor). Today I sprayed some foam insulation in the gap between the sisters. The track for a garage door is in the lower left of this picture.
Hoses leaving the the house to supply the solar panel. Today I replaced the insulation on the ends of these hoses with more expensive foam rubber instead of polyethylene.
Those same hoses as they connect to the solar panel.
The gate to the solar deck in the open position.
The same gate, closed.
The solar deck, viewed from the ground to the west. The laboratory deck is at the lower left.
The same solar deck, viewed from the southwest.
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