JINKSTO

I’m having trouble with wordpress not wanting to insert a video today. However, please click this link and go watch… I can’t think of anything to add or expand on this young lady’s comments: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPF1FhCMPuQ

Mrs. Jinksto and I were out for a day earlier this week and had an interesting thing happen.  I bought a gun at the local Gander Mountain and was very excited about the whole thing so I let Mrs Jinksto drive home will I fished the instruction manual out of the box and was reading it.

Just as we got on the interstate headed for home,  she pulled over on the side of the road.  I asked her, “what’s wrong” and she said, “I thought I’d stop and have a chat with the nice officer behind us”. 

I grinned (because as a married couple it’s always nice if you’re not the one getting the ticket) and we got ready to talk to the cop.  We turned the radio down, rolled the back windows down so that he could see through the tinted windows and waited.   We purposefully kept our hands visible.

Cop: “Evening ma’am, do you have your license and registration?”
Mrs Jinksto: “I do, my license is in my purse in the back seat.  I have a CCW and a weapon in the purse”

The officer looked in through the open back window and saw the purse laying under the new rifle.  He nodded at her and said, “Ok, reach back and get it”

Mrs. Jinksto did and opened the purse to show him the inside and then reached in and removed her license.

Cop: “Thank you. Do you know that your tags are expired?”
Mrs. Jinksto: “No they’re not, they’re actually good until the 15th of the month in which they expire.”
Cop: “This is the 25th ma’am”

At this point I laughed.  Probably more than I needed to. 🙂

Cop: “ Do you have your registration?”
Me: “Yes sir, it’s in the glove box.  There’s another gun in there.”
Cop: “Ok, umm.. you can put your hands down now sir. “

I put my hands in my lap.  He looked at me.  I looked at him.

He said, “the registration?”
”You want ME to get it” I asked.
”Yes sir.”

So, I opened the glove box, giving him plenty of time to see both the gun and the booklet that had the registration in it and removed the booklet with my finger tips.  I handed Mrs. Jinksto the booklet and closed the glove box before putting my hands back in the air.

“You can put your hands down sir.  I’ll be right back with you".

With that he walked back to his car and wrote a ticket.   I picked up my instruction manual and continued reading.

In a bit, he was back with a newly printed ticket and after a few minutes explaining how to pay it he told us to have a nice day.  We responded by telling him to be careful.  Everybody waved and we all went home.

Quite a different story from what happened to this guy.

Edit: Greybeard has comments on this as well.

… 

On April 20 2010, the Deepwater Horizon suffered a blowout.  You are aware of the results.

On that same day the Ocean Confidence, one of only about 25 extremely deepwater rigs in the Gulf of Mexico was just starting a new well.   They were ramped up and ready to go.  They’ve never suffered a serious accident or a spill of any kind as far as I know but that doesn’t matter. 

Obama and his minions implemented a six month moratorium shortly after the accident and the Confidence had to stop work on its well. 

When faced with criticism of the shutdown the administration pointed out that it was “ONLY a six month moratorium” and said, “after that they can go back to drilling again.” … they were right.  They will go back to drilling in a few weeks and when they do there’ll be a few thousand new jobs opening up to support the operation.  But, not on the gulf coast because, it seems that in “ONLY six months” you can refit an oil rig and move it.

… to the Congo.  The Congolese are ecstatic about the new jobs.  At least four other rigs have followed nearly the same path and according to some estimates have cost the Gulf Coast nearly 23000 jobs this summer.

They were told that this would happen.  Repeatedly.  They didn’t care.

Recently Obama has been touting his plan to grow jobs through export.  Unfortunately, I think he misunderstood his own plan and is instead exporting the jobs themselves.

,|,,

Two signs that go together.  Look, they even left a space for it in the bottom left corner:

Translation: We give up.  You can have this part of our country.

Translation: Yes we can

Thanks for the tip BZ

…

The day dawned dreamily into cool Carolina blue skies.  No clouds, high 60’s, damp with dew.  As I wandered through the house coffee in hand on my way to glance out the door at the day I passed my brother in law.  It was moving day for him and he was carrying some last minute thing out to one of the vehicles.  I nod and then he nods.  No words are exchanged.  It’s morning, it’s quiet.   I follow him out onto the porch and breathe in the scent of the surrounding trees with just the right mix of fresh coffee.

Brother in Law and Tigerlily spent most of last evening loading vehicles with things from my shop which was pressed into duty as temporary storage when they arrived back in May.  Let me add that I DID help them for a while but gave in to the heat and let them finish solo… err duo..  Regardless, this morning most everything is loaded and ready to go. 

There was my truck and 12 foot trailer loaded with boxes and couches and hutches and the bane of my existence… in fact… the thing that I consider the most horrendous thing that I have ever had to move.  Which is quite an accomplishment because I have moved a LOT of stuff.

*** QUE Horror move “scary scene” music*** 

EEEK EEEEEK EEEEEK

Evil Over and Under Washer and Dryer of Death

This is a random picture gleaned from the internet.  I had absolutely no inclination to take a picture of my arch nemesis.

Let me repeat.  This is the most evil appliance on the face of the earth.  It is horrendous.  Not only is it obscenely expensive (most run about $1200.00 apparently) it is also (in my own words) “stupidly heavy”.   It is impossible to relate how “stupidly heavy” it really is.  Impossible.  The laws of physics do not apply to this appliance.  It has it’s own gravity field and will, in fact, attract small birds that approach too closely.  This thing doesn’t lose socks like a normal washer or dryer it compresses them in a massive gravitational field into tiny points of light which then appear before your eyes when you try to lift it.. 

My first battle with the beast was when they first arrived.  Things were packed neatly into the various boxes of average “moving box” weight.  These are easily hefted by men folk while women folk are off doing whatever it is they do while we sweat with moving boxes.  The boxes were the ones that real people use, not the uniformly sized ones from the moving suppliers but the wildly variable sort that come out the back of your local “Big Box” store.  None the less, they were well packed so as we passed boxes with leprechauns and Quakers on them to one another we only occasionally had to warn each other about a “heavy” box. 

As we went in and out of the truck I saw it sitting there near the back and, honestly, it looked friendly enough.  My brother in law just said, “let’s leave that for last” and not having a reason to argue I nodded and tossed him a box labeled as both “KRAFT” and “underwear”. 

Things went as things go when moving.  In and out chugging along and making steady progress until it was just me and “it” left in the truck.  Knowing that this was next and without missing a beat I gave the Over and Under Washer and Dryer of Death a quick shove to center it up in the truck so that we could quickly throw it on a dolly and wheel it into the shop.

It pushed back.  I raised an eyebrow and, gave it a powerful shove which, nearly knocked me out of the truck as the washing machine remained stationary (Damn Newton and his laws anyway).

I expressed my surprise (saying something along the lines of “Holy Shit!”) and then settled down into the challenge that it had issued.  I wedged a knee behind the thing, put my back against the side of the U-Haul and PUSHEEEDDD.  I was rewarded by movement of a few inches so reset, got a better grip and pushed again.  With a loud SCRRreeeeeeeeee the machine slid across the metal floor of the truck. 

We got a dolly under it and began the long move from the truck to the shop.  All of about 12 feet. First it wouldn’t center properly on the dolly which caused it to tilt and threaten to crush things (namely me) and to avoid rolling straight.  We wrangled it down the ramp one inch at a time with me sweating and kicking it back into alignment and swearing vehemently (which helped move it along more than my other tactics).  Brother in Law, I later learned, doesn’t swear which is commendable but useless in situations like this.

We discovered too late that the machine of death was too tall to fit through the door properly while on the dolly and spent a few horrible minutes wrenching and wrestling the dolly out from under the thing.  As soon as it was free the dolly scampered to the front of the truck, curled up and cried.  I badly wanted to join it, crying and all, but we only had a few more inches to go.

We stood there with the base near the bottom of the ramp and the top resting on my Brother in Law.  I climbed up behind the machine and made ready to lift.  Now, let’s be clear, I aint no tough guy.  I’m not likely to pick up a car without a jack or, really, to even try.  But, that said, I’ve worked (sometimes hard) my whole life and have, on several occasions been trained to lift things properly.  You know, from the knees and all that jive.

I get my feet spread evenly, get a good grip and lift steadily (no jerking), I apply more strength to the task… and then more… my left knee feels the pressure as does my hip.  The machine slowly… slowly… lifts from the ground.  My upper lip starts that involuntary twitch that is your body’s way of telling you that you are very close to crossing the line between “inadvisable” and “you moron!”.  

Through gritted teeth I grind out a squeaky (but manly) “push!”.  He does.  It moves.  I drop it.  We’ve moved the machine a good six inches.  I reset and we repeat this process twice more which gets the washing machine far enough into the shop to stand it up properly.   We both stand gasping for breath (me more than him) for a few minutes and then close up the shop and the truck before going inside.  Neither of us mention it again.

Today, we reversed that process and moved it again.  This time I gave him the heavy end because, well hell, it’s his and I guess I’m not as good a person at heart as I want to be. His only comment was “Ok, Now I see what you were crying about”.  Nice guy my Brother in Law.

  I don’t want to talk about the rest.

…

Well, heck.  Regular readers will have noticed that Jinksto hasn’t been doing a lot in Blog-land for a while now. Most of the summer in fact.  I’ve been trying to keep things posted but, honestly, they’ve mostly been just filler to post something… anything… to the blog. So, here’s why I’ve been so busy.

Back on May 13th my Sister in Law, her Husband and the two bestest nieces in the world came to stay with us.  They were living in Arizona where they’ve all lived (essentially) for their entire lives and were looking to make a clean break and a new start. 

I’m not really sure how it happened, exactly.  One day we were exchanging emails about “wouldn’t it be great if…” and a month later we had four new people living in our house.  As it turns out, it actually was great but, wow, what an adjustment.   Nothing big, really, just lots of little things that take some getting used to… like wearing clothes all of the time.  People do that?

Tigerlilly maintains her own blog.  Here’s her story about the three day drive across the country.  Her blog is mostly about her struggles (and successes!) with weight loss but there are lots of good stories there as well.  Weight loss?  Again, people do that?

I have to admit that I’m not entirely sympathetic to her “problem” and have endeavored, on occasion, to torpedo her work.  The more I hear the treadmill running the more I think, “hmm, it’d be a nice day for a cookout” or banana pudding, or cookies, or muffins or…  And, let’s let her tell you herself about that evil southern vice that is Sweet Tea.

Tigerlilly’s husband is a good guy.  Because of the distances involved with them living in Arizona, I had never actually met him before they moved here.   While the rest of the country is in a depression (… or was it a recession?) this guy found jobs.  Note the plural.

I recently listened to someone in construction lament that he had been out of work for more than a year and a half (and that his free benefits from Uncle Sam were unfairly running out… but that’s another story).  When the construction job market got too tough in Arizona, Tigerlilly’s husband moved his family across the country to a place where there was more work.  On the first day after arriving in NC he was looking for a job and then wanted to spend the first weekend looking.  Since arriving I think he’s found four jobs, two one-off/temporary things and two full time jobs.  He turned one of them down after a week because it would have required that he move again (to Charleston SC) and then found a job locally.  It’s not been easy but he’s done it.  The current job isn’t really what he wants but he’s still looking and will eventually find what he’s searching for, he’s just that kind of guy.   While he was looking for a job his wife took a job waitressing to help bring in money.  Once they were back on their feet she quit that so that she could focus on homeschooling the girls. 

Seriously? People “can’t find a job in this market”?  Bullshit.  I have proof that you can if you make the time to look.  It hasn’t been easy for them, not for a minute, but they never gave up and were successful.  I have a great deal of respect for these folks and I’m happy to have had the experience of living with them for a short while.

This week things are going so well for them that they’re moving into their own townhouse here in town.  We’ve told them over and over that they can stay with us as long as they need but I can certainly understand their need to get moving.  To get back on their feet and get back to a “normal” life.  People that work that hard to find jobs and feed families aren’t really interested in living in someone else’s house no matter how comfortable you try to make it.   Still, I’m not happy about them moving out.  Our life will be quiet again, for a while, and I won’t have to put on clothes just to go down the hall to the bathroom but somehow that benefit seems somewhat less important than it once did. 

We’ll miss seeing the girls every morning and having the extra help with cooking.  We’ll miss the family meals every night where we all sit at the table to eat and talk about the day. We’ll miss listening to the homeschooling in the dining room every morning and will miss watching the girls learn to add and subtract and to count butterflies in the yard.

They’ll be just down the road and we will, of course, visit regularly but we’ll still miss them a great deal.

Life is easy, life is hard. 

I work in a very corporate environment.  My language at work tends to fall into the technical dialect.  It’s deeply meaningful to those that understand it and is (generally) very specific.  I don’t do it intentionally, it’s just communicating with my peers.

Occasionally though, usually late at night on a conference call, I fall out of it or mix up technical speech with southern slang.  Words that are familiar to me begin to slip into my conversations.  Words like “aint” and “caint” which you don’t expect to hear on a call where I work.

If there’s more than one southerner on the call this has a feedback affect.  We’re tired.  We’re usually frustrated because we’re up late.  The language is comfortable.  The later it gets and the more we talk; the more it descends into madness. 

Here’s a recounting of a recent late night phone call with several other engineers trying to get a couple of computer systems back online.  This happened around hour 3 or so into the call.

The participants were me, two guy’s from South Carolina and a gentleman from New York.

…

Me: Ya’ll reckon if we kick this server over it’ll come back?

SC engineer_1:  Yeah, prolly.  If it don’t we kin jest have that boy in the server room light’er back up.

Me: Ok, I’m gonna bounce it then.  Should come up faster’n Junior in the the number 2 at Talladega.

SC Engineer_2: Oooo weee hitch up yer britches boys, here we go!

Me: Aight it’s done.  All that’s left to do is wait for the finish line.

SC Engineer_1: who’s yer driver

Me: Well, it used to be Gilliland in the M&M 38.  Now… I dunno…  Definitely aint Kyle

SC Engineer_1: I hear yah brother. They done him wrong. 

Me: Ok… looks like this darlin’s coming back now. 

SC Engineer_2: Yeah, we dern near got’er licked.

<Dog barking in the background on someone’s phone>

SC Engineer_2:  Look ya’ll I just wanna say, that’s my Mama’s poodle.  I don’t want ya’ll thinking it’s mine.

Me: Aint that about right?  He’s more worried about us thinkin he’s got a poodle than knowin that he lives with his mama.

SC Engineer_2: That aint funny.

SC Engineer_1:  Yeah huh….unless it really is your poodle.  Then it’s funnier.

Me: Ok this server is up; good thing too I aint eat supper yet
.
SC Engineer_1: Me either but I aint in a hurry.  I figger it’ll be cold by now unless Mama will heat it up for me.

NYC Engineer: Wait.  You live with your Mother too?

<silence>

SC Engineer_2: No

SC Engineer_1: No, I don’t.

Me: Damn son! He meant his wife.  What’s your problem?

NYC Engineer:  Ok, look.  I’ll be honest.  I haven’t understood a single damned thing for the last 15 minutes.  You people aren’t even speaking English.

Me: Ok, but we got the servers back up doing it and you aint said a word.  I aint tryin to say nothin, I”m just sayin…

NYC Engineer: Ok, uhh… so we’re good? 

Me: Yup, they came back pretty as yah please.

SC Engineer_1:  Slicker’n ah whistle.

NYC Engineer:  I give up.  We’re done.  <click>

Me:  Reckon what got him all riled up?

<general laughter>

(For the non-southerner: “mama” refers to the mother of your children when used in this context.  Or, so you’ll understand: ‘yo baby mama’.  Including the possessive adjective “My” before the word Mama means you’re talking about your own mother.)

…

…

I got an email today.  It was a very moving request for money to aid flood victims in Pakistan.  The email contained the following photo’s:

I didn’t add any text to my response:

Personally, I think they can do with a little extra water… what with all of the fires and such…

…

Today, I’ve been married 15 years.  I’ve said pretty much everything that I can about the wonderful woman that I’m married to but one post in particular really sums it all up.  Go here and read:

 http://jinksto.com/blog/?p=1255

Obama said that I could keep my current healthcare plan.  He promised it.  Over and over and over he claimed that there would be NO changes.  I said then that this would not be possible and I was right.  I, along with others, called him a liar.

The plans are changing under us to support requirements in this new bill and the costs are going up. A lot.  Pretty much everyone that I know has had their current plan costs increase as a direct result of the healthcare bill that Obama passed and not by a small amount either.  The costs have gone up from 10-20% since this time last year.  This isn’t “statistics”.  It’s not hyperbole or political commentary.  It’s very much, real world observation of what’s happening.

I got an email from Greybeard this morning with the following message:

World Net Daily is reporting there is a movement afoot to try to repeal Obama’s Health Care Reform Bill before it is enacted. They have published a petition for those opposed to sign.
You may want to sign it and send it to others:
http://www.wnd.com/obamacare

I’m not a big fan of Internet petitions because, usually, I don’t think they have a lot of value.  However, in this case, I signed it.  Will you?