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banging the breaker bar
Sunday, July 12 2009
We had houseguests, and this meant Gretchen prepared a breakfast. It included a tart, muffins, macaroni and "cheese," and her own seitan-rich homemade vegan sausage which proved astoundingly delicious (though Gretchen herself couldn't eat it because she doesn't like seitan). Meanwhile Ray had managed to knock over my coffee container, spilling coffee beans everywhere. Mercifully, the container didn't shatter because it was made of polystyrene, but a part of the lid still managed to chip off on the hard granite countertop. Now Ray's reputation as being nothing but thumbs in our kitchen is firmly established. None of us could breathe easily, for example, when he was carrying a huge ceramic bowl one of Gretchen's ancestors had brought to America on the boat from Poland.
While Gretchen and Nancy were walking the dogs, Ray and I were puttering around in the shop and the driveway. I decided to make another attempt fixing the gas-powered lawn mower, which has been disabled now for years due to a seemingly-inextricable and badly-bent blade. In the past I'd tried all my ratchets, 5/8 inch sockets, and spray lubricants, but nothing would get that retaining bolt to turn. Since my last attempt, though, I'd purchased a couple 18 inch breaker bars (for use removing the variety of lugnuts that might have to be removed). I turned the lawn mower upside-down, used vice grips to keep the blade from being able to turn counter-clockwise, and then with Ray holding the socket on the retaining bolt, I banged the end of the breaker bar with a sledge hammer. Nothing seemed to be happening at first, but then gradually the bolt began to turn. The lawn mower was on the road to being fixed! I'll still have to weld some nubs on the attachment hub the blade fits on; it was the wearing-off of those nubs that had allowed the blade to spin with respect to the retaining bolt, tightening it with nearly-inextricable torque.
Next Ray had me use my drill press to convert a small wooden ovoid (which had once served as the pull-handle on a lamp's switch cord) into a small pipe for the smoking of marijuana. It isn't that Ray actually smokes pot, but like many, he still has a gadgety interest in drug paraphernalia.
The ostensible reason for Ray and Nancy's being Upstate this weekend was to check out possible real estate purchases. But it's gradually becoming clear that their interest in real estate is just an excuse to drive around the nearby Catskill foothills. On this visit, they hadn't even set a date with their realtor, who probably hates them at this point.
When Ray, Nancy, and Gretchen returned from their drive-by house safari, the four of us (and the dogs) all went to the Secret Spot on the Esopus, where we met up with Penny. It was mostly a social call, since Ray and I were the only ones who actually waded into the water. I was the first one there, scaring a snake, several frogs, and some enormous tadpoles along the water's edge. Every time we go to the Secret Spot, the river channel is different. Today there was a sandbar 20 feet from shore above which the water was only about an inch deep.
I'd brought a yardsale-purchased diving mask and snorkel to use while swimming (which, for me, is impossible to sustain without a snorkel). Ray (who had his swim goggles on) saw some fish, but all I could see were the rounded pebbles of the bottom. Still, it was like a different world down there and, though it was nowhere near as spectacular as, say, the Galapagos, gave me a bit of the same thrill.
There's a guy who hangs out at the Secret Spot every single day; we remember him from last year[REDACTED]. His transportation is an old Huffy mountain bike with Ashtabula cranks. Today he pretty much kept to himself, although he spent a little time working on a dam he's been maintaining across the Esopus. He and I shared an enjoyable time building a dam last year (I believe it was) and it's possible today's dam harkens back to that experience.
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