Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Thursday, April 30, 2015

Happy Trails, Jerry!

Another Blogger Shuts It Down For Keeps...

Word came in from the Book of Face that the Confabulator (who also ran Drannak's Dribbles) has passed away.

Confabulator, (Jerry Kannard), had been in declining health for some time, and was living in an assisted care facility in Oklahoma, if my memory serves me correctly.

I got to meet Jerry once or twice at some of the Texas blogmeets.  Really sharp guy, with good technical chops.  Moved kinda slow, but, hell, so do I.

Glad I was able to make your acquaintance, Jerry!  You'll be missed!

Thursday, April 23, 2015

More House

Pennies From Heaven?  Now's A Good Time For That!

Filled out another stack of paperwork today.  Gonna cost me $250 to turn on the water/gas/electric just long enough to get the inspection done.

Of course, that inspection is another $350...

Sigh.   Here's a reminder of why I'm forking out the $$$:

(click to embiggenate)

Wednesday, April 22, 2015


House!!!  House!!!  House!!!

The bid was accepted!!

Barring complications, I should get the keys for the new house in the next 2-3 weeks, and be moved in by the time summer rolls around.

There's still lots and lots of paperwork.   Appraisal, inspection, some minor repairs, a serious soffit-to-baseboard scrubbing by professional cleaning gnomes, and so on.  Then, of course, the hours-long ordeal of closing.

Somewhere along the line I need to get the carpet stretched and cleaned, and a fridge acquired...

So much to do, and from here on out, the process of fix, repair & upgrade will never end.  It's already overdue for an exterior paint job...

Sigh.  A boat may be a hole in the water you pour money into, but a house?  A house is like a giant cash-sucking vacuum you're chained to for the rest of your born days.

All the same, it's MINE!  MINE MINE MINE!!!

I present to you:  CASTLE ANTHRAX !!!

(Click Pix To Embiggenate!) 
Plenty of rafter space for the Evil Horde of Attack Bats to roost...

Grumpy McFireplace finds your fake Duraflame logs unpalatable...

Raised stage and multiple stripper poles!

Bay windows give 75 degree field of fire!

Zombie-proof bars on all exterior access ports!
General location is on the map by the red arrow.  Specific location will be on the housewarming party invites.  The old domicile is by the green star.  Work location is the very center of the map...
It's on the old (defunct) Inwood Forest East golf course, the back yard overlooking the 1st hole green.  The City purchased the course and has turned it into greenspace.
I call it "clear field of fire"...
More later!

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Here We Go Again

"Please, Sir!  Take *ALL* My Money!!"

Once more onto the financial merry-go-round!

All the paperwork got submitted late last night to bid on another house.  My Realtor guy emailed the last of the documents for electronic signature just prior to 10 pm in order to get the package into the seller's lap first thing this morning.

I'm still a little bummed about the condo deal falling through.  It wasn't an ideal location, but it was a cozy little place, and pretty cheap, as these things go.

This house, now, is not so cheap.  It's right on the ceiling on what I'm finding affordable, but it's a whole lot of house.  Also, the online records from the power company show the monthly electric bills to be mostly reasonable.  If I can get some serious tax incentives to go around and install double-pane windows, weathersealing, and foam-coating the attic, I can bring that bill down a good 40%.

It's a leap of faith to spend $6000 up front in order to save that amount over 10 years, but the numbers don't lie.  Turn your house into an Igloo ice chest, and it'll keep the cool in.

Still, I gotta get the house first.  We should know by Friday or Monday.

Keep your fingers & tentacles crossed, y'all...

Thursday, April 09, 2015

Along Came A Spider...

And It Sat Down Beside Her!

Jeebus, but I hates me some spiders...

I don't kill 'em out of hand.  I do understand just how useful they are in keeping the pest insect numbers under control.  As creepy and disgusting as they are, I try to maintain a "live and let live" policy.

Until those bastards cross the line!

I'm riding the shuttle bus in from remote parking the other morning, when I feel this odd tickle up on my head.

My hair needs a trim, so I assume it's just loose strands blowing in the breeze, so I reach up to pat things in place, and this black hairy spider leaps down and lands on my shirt collar.

Looks like this guy, and would easily fit on your thumbnail:

I'm freaking out and swatting at it, and it makes a beeline for the dark cavern of my shirt pocket.  Somehow, I bat it onto the seat in front of me, and swipe it onto the floor.  Or so I thought.

About the time my heart rate settles back down, here's the spider again.  He's on the seat back in front of me, and every time the lady in that seat leans back, the spider's reaching upward with his little front legs trying to grab onto her hair.

I have to admit, I had a couple of moments when I watched the spider reach for that hair and thought to myself, "I'd kinda like to see how this plays itself out..."   but common courtesy kicked in right in the nick of time.

I tapped her on the shoulder and said "Lean forward!  There's a spider on the seat back!"

By the time she peeled herself off the shuttle's front window, I'd given the spider a solid thump, enough to curl its legs up and roll off the seat. 

Was it dead?  I hope so.  If not, it's probably decided to go for smaller game from here on out.

Wednesday, April 01, 2015

Nocturnal Eructations

More "Oh, Woe Is Me!" Stuff

As I get older, there's a few things you just have to take as a matter of course.

F'rinstance, the greying hair & beard.  The slow emergence of "laugh lines" around the eyes and the general saggification of the epidermis overall.  Getting up to pee more than once in the night.

The eyesight starts to decline, the symphony of creaks & pops from flexed joints goes from pianissimo to triple forte, and, of course, there's the continued decline of the digestive system.  I miss the days I could devour half a BBQ'd dead cow and a cauldron of SpoonMelter chili, and suffer not a whit the next day.  Now, I ought to own controlling shares of Maalox.

The latest item on the "You're an old fogey" list, though, is a puzzler.

Most nights, between O' Dark:Thirty and Dawn's Early Light, there's at least one episode that finds me suddenly sitting upright and belching like a spasmodic walrus.  Big ol' breezy gut bubbles, surfacing from the depths of perdition.

Other times, it'll hit on a bathroom trip, and the echoing of the belch on the tile walls will knock the cobwebs from your eyes...

That bit about it tasting better the second time around?  Not after hours of digestion.

I suppose it could be worse.  The big air bubble could stick around, and choose to exit from another orifice under less private circumstances.

I suppose there's some modicum of grace left to us, after all...