Adults Say the Stupidest Things (Part 2).

Some days ago I was met outside my workplace by a lady that shall remain nameless.  This lady does a lot of walking, and much of it past my house.  Now I know there are those that have no clue about decor, art, or any of the finer things, and not because they can't afford it, or in this case haven't been exposed to some of the finest there is, but because they don't seem predisposed genetically, politically, or sexually (not sure what that means but I think it's played a part in my artisitic education being married to an artist).

To truly get a sense of the story from the beginning I have to tell you that we had lived in our house for more than two years without a front door.  That space was ever so well occupied by a couple of sheets of plywood painted to match our clapboard.  Well this year...late summer, early fallish we finally got our front entry.  A massive piece of art that contains a front door surrounded by glass, a replica of the original as drawn into the presentation plans leading up to 1884 well executed by the incomparable Mike Paterson of Paterson Woodworking located in Upper Amherst Cove.  It took six of us to wiggle and waggle the thing into it's prepared opening.  But now it's there for all to admire, and they have admired.  Some folks have stopped their cars...one in the middle of the road to stare at this door with it's crowning balcony also well executed by our trusty carpenters Edward and Barry Sturge.

So back to the story and the comment that has made it's rounds to much chuckle in our house since that fateful day.  This lady happened to catch me while walking from my car to the office and comment on the door, and the house in general.  In the most well meaning way she issued this statement..."It's only old-fashioned, but it's some nice."  Now I wasn't aware that old-fashioned was in it's very nature un-nice.  I also have an issue with the phrase "old-fashioned" because it somehow regurgitates, with a full dose of bad taste, images of those gawdy couches from the seventies with their cheaply carved wood product and such that by the time I had taken note of them smelled of cigarette smoke and perspiration.  Now I would have liked to have said all of this to this lady but I think her intentions were admirable and she was sweet enough to point out how nice the house looked...even if it was only "old-fashioned".  I know educating people about this is damned near impossible... harder than rehabilitating the house with it's hefty contributions of blood, sweat, and tears, but who knows maybe someday I'll take a Crack-At-It.

Slow traffic day.

Today was the annual slow traffic day in our neck of the what-was-once woods.  The folks responsible for slowing down traffic are the good folks at Targa Newfoundland.  Every year we all gather at some point to watch as expensive and expensively modified cars race through our streets.  And every year the point is to make the most creative remark about the cars as they go by often comparing them to the young and not so young drivers that terrorize our town daily.

The best one this year came from the guy working on our heating system that said "Jesus, they only close the road because the Targa cars would frustrate the shit out of the usual speeders"!  He also informed me that he had gone faster than that when he was hooked to a tow truck in his old work van.

My beef today is the educational system and it's refusal to allow the kids to witness this event by keeping them in class in the name of safety. The same crowd that will cancel school two days in advance based upon the long range forecast.  This doesn't apply to my boy...I keep him home deliberately not to thumb my nose at the school folk but to allow him, a ten year old boy, to witness something cool that is actually brought to a remote place that doesn't always get to have cool.  In exchange he had to wash himself thoroughly this morning and do two pages of math practice the night before.  It turned out to be the easiest homework he has done in his life.

I don't expect my behaviour in this issue to be followed by many parents that simply can't deal with their youngster all morning long because they have punched into Facebook long before the bus has toted them from the roadside, but I only hope that a few more would jump on board...enough for the schools to note that absenteeism trumps the H1N1 on this morning annually and to send the youngin's home to watch legalized speeding.  Now I don't think all the teachers are stunned, but i do think that some of them need to be reminded that there is more to education than a classroom, and hell maybe I'll take A Crack At that job too.

Adults say the stupidest things.

Janet came up with this idea some time ago, and I'll be stealing it for this post. You simply take a stupid question that a tourist or other visitor to the studio asks, and examine it critically.

This week's installment comes to us from a visitor that had come by with a group collecting information for the government that will be used to better exhibit this region in tourism material. The speaker was to represent an uninformed tourist and help the facilitator gain insight into what the average Joe needs to know about our space and this one didn't disappoint with the newly "most mocked" querry..."did you learn this skill from your mother?"

Now this might be a reasonable question for knitting, quilting, or say...mat hooking. Shit, it might even be reasonable to some folks out there that grew up in traditional printshops, if those people weren't deformed freaks that lived to the ripe old age of twelve as a result of hanging out with those nasty chemicals during those good developmental years. Now, I have tried to gain some good info on boatbuilding from my elders, and as traditional skills go the question could be applied to almost anything from baking a cake to good oral sex...just testing to see if you were still with me. But, the point is this isn't really one of those traditional skills for outport Newfoundland, and many of the locals still have no idea what it is we do in the studio. What this means is that what was a stupid question at the time of it's asking turned out to be an eye-opener for those of us that assume people know the difference, and the asker was in fact the best equipped person among the group for having the guts to voice everything and anything that came into his mind. Now if we could infuse that enthusiasm into many of the locals, and more of the visitors to the studio, it can only be a good thing for all printmakers everywhere.

I wasn't sure where this post was going when I started and I'm still not sure it actually went anywhere but it killed a little time and did seem to come across as sharing some little insight. I can't promise they'll all be like this but I'll take another Crack At It in the future.

Photo Credits: Janet Davis
Photo Captions: Top: Duke placing dampened papers on inked lino-plates. Bottom: Hard to Port! Duke pulls the press bed through, printing cards, mini-prints, and bookmarks for Norton's Cove Studio.

Dodging Bill

On Saturday, the 22nd of August (our 11th wedding anniversary), while readying for Bill the Hurricane's arrival by getting Davis Shipping's aluminum workboat out of the water, I was approached by a gentleman of obvious European persuasion (the Fs for Vs and the Vs for Ws was the ringer here). He was inquiring as to whether the pontoon (meaning floating dock) would be adequate in keeping his boat safe when the wind got going on Sunday evening. I said, "yes" of course, because if the boat stayed longer I'd have a better chance of having a look at it, and crap did I ever want to have a good look at it!

I informed him that winds of this magnitude were pretty much the norm at this time of the year and that this was taken into account when they put those things there. I did fail to mention that it was rare to have anything but small fishing boats tied up there, but I was sure that given some of the past blows it would stand against even his 85 foot mast. Just the same he was going to put out his anchor to guard against any possibility and I saw the opportunity to offer my help and have a look at the vessel. So it was that Woody-Jack and I got to go aboard this fine vessel.

Later I would bring Janet and the Fredder down to the wharf for a look and they too were offered the chance to see the boat. This is all important when you want a boat because if the spouse is not on board there's a good chance it ain't happening. Well, during the three nights that our guests were at the wharf I'd get to spend two evenings on board and the great couple that owned the boat were good enough to accept our offer of grub on the other night.

All of this is simply a lead up to my point that most of us have no clue about living and are simply coasting through our time...wasting it on trash. At no time is this more apparent to me than when offered up through the magnifying glass of people like Herman and Rian. They have spent two and a half years summering in Newfoundland and Labrador with the two winters spent in the heady space offered up at a veritable bargain in New York city. Apparently fees for wharfage in the off season there equal about $2800 for seven months... all electrical included. Beat that when most apartments there run at more than five thousand a month. The plan for them involves sailing from Newfoundland waters in the coming weeks and taking the opportunities of weather windows to head down the eastern seaboard to New York for a short stay before continuing on to the Carribean for this coming winter. The plan also includes Brazil in 2011 after seeing the other side of South America and the Antarctic along the way. Then nobody knows where.

Now I'm not suggesting that all of us can afford the luxury, or that we all can, or should own large sailboats (I would love to and I don't understand why everyone doesn't see the upside), but we all should try our hand at seeing the world outside of our little hovels and attempting to connect with other cultures on some level. World relations could always use a little more understanding on the most personal of levels, and shit, the food is so good when you were raised on things boiled or baked to da'bejeezuz.

Think of the adventure of entering a new port every evening, meeting the locals, sharing some good grub, and moving on in the morning. The greatest part is that it's not an airport that inflicts such doses of culture shock that when you meet new people you're not even yourself, or resorts that cater to eating crap and drinking oneself into oblivion on the same old crystaline beach with sand up the crack of your arse. There is no hauling of luggage and rushing to get to the rental car booth before everyone else.

It's all a pretty sweet deal, if you don't get seassick, that is. I don't know if I'll ever have the opportunity to do something like this even on a smaller scale, or if I'd have the guts to if the chance arose for such adventure, but I'd like to think I'd take A Crack At It.

Photo Credits: Duke Kelloway

Photo Captions: Top, At the 'pontoon' in Wesleyville; Bottom, leaving Wesleyville past Bennett's Island.

Too much man, too much...

It started on 17 July past. I was asked by the boss (but not Bruce Springsteen) if I would be interested in driving to St. John's to take a crew member to the airport early Sunday morning. "Yes", was the answer because driving is more fun than sitting around trying to plan my own day, and besides, we needed some pipe at the Home Depot to complete the hookup of our new central vac system.

The trip included a stop at the Nalcor site at Bull Arm to pick up said crew member, who at the time of my arrival insisted on finishing the smoke he had just lit while I sat in the truck and watched...exciting stuff that. I tried to urge him on, but he is one of those types that don't actually engage in conversation because he doesn't hear a bloody thing you have to say, and just stood there blowing smoke and smiling.

This meant I had to gun the damn thing the rest of the way to meet with success in my ever existant list of things to do when in the big city. This list had shopping included and I was running behind in the middle of roadwork season.

The rest of the trip was me listening to computer talk and the benefits of the new video camera that this dude had just purchased. All great stuff to a guy with no interest in technology whatsoever, but as I have said he's the kind that simply waits for you to stop talking so he can drop a statement unrelated to what you have said like a chunk of concrete in the middle of already strained conversation.

Photo Credit: Frederick Kelloway

The jinker in the doldrums.

Two evenings back we took a sail on the beautiful Monica Talbot, a 30 foot cutter rigged sailboat owned by friend of ours. The design was that of William Atkin and she is unlike the majority of the boats found around the yacht clubs of today. She is seakindly, deep and narrow, and very much capable of open ocean sailing...the kind of boat that should be required by law for Newfoundland water, and she is wooden. She is forgiving, a much needed attribute that I will report back on later in the month as Eric has left her for our use while he heads to Greenland to secure iceberg water on the Sikuk, a 180 foot iceberg harvesting vessel of Norwegian descent.

Now my actual sailing experience amounts to about 30 minutes of combined seatime spread over the last ten years or more spinkled with a healthy dose of reading and daydreaming. Every time I've stepped aboard a sailboat I have assumed the role of the jinker in the doldrums. Despite the often hounding winds of our coast I have incredibly acquire the rather Christlike penchant for calming them by simply stepping forward to assist in the rigging of the boat. Of course if I were to stand on the head of the wharf for days, or to decide upon taking any other type of boat out for an afternoon of fun the relentlessness of the wind would astound the most hardened transatlantic racer. Despite this I will soldier on refusing the role of Lee Ingleby's Hollom by simply staying away from cannonballs.

Last evening I was subjected to the rather complete teachings of the master in the finer points of raising the main and the importance of topping lifts in preserving the skullcaps of crew abaft. Throw in a little marine engineering and I feel ready to push off on my first adventure. I hope for wind, and sun, and maybe a master mariner or two to help in my journey, but barring that I'll still Take A Crack At It!

Life stuff.

During the early hours of thursday a man I have never met passed peacefully into that great void. He had succumb to cancer after a four year battle. This man mattered to my family because he had given us a great friend and sister-in-law. And so it was that on thursday it was decided that we would travel to St. John's to be at her side.

At times like this we put aside all else to focus on the life and loves of those that have passed and reflect upon what they have contributed to our lives. We also discover the beauty, of how families become entwined that mere years before had nothing shared. I was left to reflect upon how death pulls us from the ride that is our everyday and allows us to sit on the side and observe how meaningless much of what we do is. It is time much needed and it leaves those most affected to determine when they should step back onto the ride and resume whatever it is that they have drawn away from.

This is just a note to self to sometimes step off the ride.

The sentencing.

Well the deed has been done and Blue...I've decided to name the tree so, has been sentenced to however many years he can take on the mother in-law's lawn. Given past sentencings his will not be the typical death row story of lenghtly appeals and time spent awaiting a natural death while dodging the syringe weilding arm of the law. No, others have not lasted long and his story awaits the telling indeed. If he can elude the damned whipper snipper and it's death by a million cuts he may live to attain the heavenly height of say several feet...not the 60-80 the little tag had bragged of, but a solid dozen over the next one-hundred years I'd venture to guess.



Our everlasting quest for a greenhouse continues due the flimsy piece of crap Sears had the audacity to send to us...maybe someone should tell those guys exactly where they were shipping this thing. The near indestructable panels the website had exalted to the almighty turned out to be the thickness of say Life brand bottle,the same material they use to ship us that plasticky tasting Ontario tap water in, and surely would have had me running all over Brookfield throughout the winter in hopes of finding enough to silicone together for spring 2010. Byes this is the coast of Newfoundland up longside Cape Freels where average windspeed is somewhere in the vicinity of 4 million miles per hour. In fact we are the backup launch site for the space shuttle...the much more eco friendly way of simply waiting for a good blow to send the thing into low orbit. Late winter or early spring snow storms sometimes tend to be countless baby seals mistaken for snowflakes whipping by on the relentless northeast wind, drifting up against any available structure, and left to fend for themselves among the bruts, the hounding Barbarians of Bonavista North.



Now it appears we will be using the Gothic design to construct our own which I have been drawing in various incarnations now for weeks. I think faith has told us that this is our chosen path as when I called the local hardware store, where they may decide in September that they are not ordering anymore 2 inch nails until after the year end in late March next year, to inquire about ordering the required plexiglass they informed me that they had six pieces of the size I needed in stock. The sheets, 4x8 feet were ordered for someone else that had pulled out and left them to be returned. So...we got a little deal on them and a strong signal from the pepper and tomato gods that this is to be. We hope to have our dudes on the base very soon and will try to update when that happens. Hell I may even try to post some pictures...something I have never tried to do in my whole computer illiterate life. It might just kill me, or make me stronger but shit I'll take A Crack At __it!

Gardening...the death of things from away.

Last evening the wife and I spent some time readying the ground at her mom's house for the birthday gift we had purchased for her...a Calorado Blue Spruce. Just a young'n and oh so innocent. Sadly he's probably doomed to die in the coming weeks as a result of lack of knowledge, much like the generation we see among us today he won't get the best nutrients and his environment will be suspect at best.

To backtrack some she had requested this tree, and apparently has wanted one for some time. Given her birthday was nigh we agreed to get her one and to plant it in hopes of giving the little guy the best possible start in what will undoubtably be a challenging life at best. You see as humans we fail to realize that we play with living things daily in hopes of adding something a little extra to our lives with little thought givin to the probable consequence of our actions.

The skipper (my wife's father) has contended for years that his wife loves gardening and she loves even more having him to do it for her. His other contention has been about the thousands of dollars spent plants that should be growing in some far off exotic location, but that have come to his doorstep to spend their last days shrivelling and dying awaiting the day they will be pulled unceremoniously from the ground and chucked in the ever expanding pile out back to take root and acheive miraculous dwarf status in the bog ajacent to his property line.

So with tethered optimism we set out to exhume the previous tenent and prepare the ground for the next victim...turns out the real victims were the ones wielding the shovels and swinging them with ferocious determination at the increasing swarm of mosquitos out to get their piece of the pie. The missus came to the conclusion that she could save the past tenent and it's sickly shell was removed to an ambulance and rushed to our garden in hopes that surgery and proper care could restore it to it's previous glory. The hole was dug and we retired for the evening allowing our young chosen one the respite of one more night snuggled in the safety of his birthing pot while we battered the jezuz from the blood filled cloud that had amassed above us.

Tomorrow we will seek the required soil that is recommended for the blue spruce...hopes are not high, but hell I'll take A Crack At __it!

All new from Apple.

Something in the news today that has gotten my shorts in a knot. Not exactly sure how to address it, but I'll take A Crack At __it!

Apparently CBC has decided that news, on what must be a decidedly slow news day involves reporting that the new iPhone is now available in Canada. It's all bad enough that a select few billionaires that create over-priced crappy toys for the masses get to convince us all that we need this stuff, but now the national tax-payer driven media wants in on this Walmart flyer type affair. Sorry folks but this ain't news. Think for a minute what kind of evening news hour we would have on our hands if the news consisted of any new product that has been released to the unsuspecting masses on that day or during the week.

This is only the tip of the iceberg in my gripe with over-priced crap that started with a news story I had read some time back in which a consumer had reported faulty workmanship and the failure of their beloved iPod to be told that they are not meant to last more than a couple of years. The intention is to buy the latest, even more gadgety one that only cost twice as much and has far more bull on it than you could ever hope to use in any productive day. There I went and said the unsayable...PRODUCTIVE. This crap all removes us from that realm quite handily doesn't it? The illusion is that it makes you more productive, but the reality is that other than the obvious phone feature the rest is just crap that you brag about to your friends. Oddly no one seems to brag about the bill for that toy...which can easily equal that of a car payment or the rent. And, to add to the misery of the employer that seeks productivity is the employee that does little more than text friends, surf the net, and play with that eternally present distraction for much of the workday. It'll be great though when their ass gets fired because they can let all their friends know up-to-the-minute...crap they can even use the built in GPS to pinpoint their exact location and describe weather conditions at the time of the occurance.

This is why, here today I wish to unveil the latest Apple creation. Ladies and gentlemen the newest gem from Apple...the better than ever most up-to-date of it's kind ever known to man. The all new iDiot.