Ides of May
Lengthy treatise about the state of construction
affairs; a brief excursion into Queen Anne to catch a movie and a short review
of "Super Size Me." Lots of photos at the end illustrating a variety of views
of town including a photo essay on the setting sun reflected along 4th Avenue
buildings.
Good grief...Charlie Brown. Here it is halfway
through May, nearly nine months after moving from the heart of the effete
Eastern snob center of the universe to the heart of the
clean-green-liberal-grunge-can't..make..up..my..mind center of the universe and
I still haven't unpacked any of my toys or music. At least I have a bike again,
but, of course this being Seattle, have really only been on it once since I've
had it, two weeks now.
And whose fault is that? If I weren't such a weather weanie I'd have been out in the 50 degree days we've had or the windy but sunny 60 degree days. Instead I've been tied (think tethered, as in ball around a pole) to the house or the vicinity of the house. We've had a lot of activity which has required one of two responses. Either we decide to eat out all the time and live inside a "moving van" or I hang around and move things from one room to the next and put up or take down a plastic wall.
In addition to the regular Schulte Construction (Rick and Joe) there's been - first the sheetrockers (or dry wall guys, or just "rockers") and, once they were done cutting and putting up square after square of compressed gypsum board, the "mudders." I've been stuck in a 1950's sci-fi movie where everything was done by the same person and in the meantime - or rather a whole half-century later in real time - the world of construction has specialized. Carpenters (framers, finishers) now have portable power tools - wired or wireless, or is that corded and cordless?, which make "This Old House" seem like an antique show. Porter-Cable, DeWalt, Milwaukee, Makita, Hitachi, Skil, and others, are everywhere. And, like the farm implements of today, they come in your favorite colors - yellow, red (two shades), blue (two shades), no green though. Air pumps power half of these tools, especially the nail-guns. There are nail-guns which load like staplers, one each for each of the different kind and size nail. There are other nail-guns which load magazine fashion like old-style Gatling guns with rolls of different speciality nails. There is even a powerful bar magnet in an aluminum frame on wheels which one rolls around the yard or floor to pick up the missed nails since every nail-gun either misses on occasion or must be fired to ascertain that it's working properly. And, once it is, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, and on and on. The nails which load like staples are held in a clip with little plastic connectors which pop off the wood when the nail enters like fragments of a rock hit by a real bullet. Consequently there's this smashed plastic debris everywhere - one for each nail, and there must be tens of thousands of nails used so far.
But none of that even approaches the pervasiveness of the white gypsum powder from the rockers. Every board cut, every board nailed or screwed, every board even moved an inch seems to exude this fine white powder. I've wiped the same items in the same room twice a day for a week now and still there's this white powder everywhere. For every cut of the table saw, or the chop saw, or the Skil saw, or even of the hand saws, there's an equal amount of not-quite-microscopic but not-quite-tangible sawdust. One area of my yard is so powdered with sawdust that it's almost like fingerprint powder in allowing me to see the ground in beyond-three-dimensional capacity. There is a mole hole right behind the area where the chop saw is usually set up which has been three-dimensionalized beyond Hollywood's wildest dreams. This hole was practically invisible, a tiny entrance (or exit) to the world of the fast-moving mole. It exited the ground somewhat horizonal from an area where the garden dirt was built-up for the various flowering plants, masking the actual mole hill behind. With a couple days's worth of fine sawdust, the mole hole could not be more obvious nor visible if it were lit and pointed to by neon lights.
So I move things from kitchen and dining room to living room and bedroom, put up and move plastic walls held in place by high-tech tension poles. After eight hours I move some things back and move other things further away to allow the next day's activity to continue while maintaining a reasonable level of both dust and disruption. In between and throughout the day I use a broom or vacuum cleaner or both to chase some of the worst-offending collections.
This weekend the two sidewalk areas of my yard and most of the front and side yards were relatively free of equipment and supplies. Fighting for electricity with the various crew, I used my mower to get most of the high grass chopped down and then spent interim time here and there, keeping out of the way of wherever the different crew members needed to be, and trimmed the remaining parts of the yard. It's almost a shame there isn't a cinematographer following all of us around using low-frame-per-second frame rates to capture the ballet which is going on around this place.
All the windows are installed - a few need tweaking or repair from the manufacturer (Milguard), all the sheetrock is installed and most of the mud (spackle for the rest of us) has been layered on and sanded and layered and sanded. That's probably the most amazing realization I've made about all the specialization which has occurred in the building trades. There are now automatic tools which dispense with both tape and mud at the same time, which work corners or straight walls equally well. Some of these mud tools and some of the sheetrock tools cost hundreds to thousands of dollars and the better craftspeople have a tool for every requirement. We're paying for and getting some of the best craftspeople in all these various skills so there's been a mint of building tools left in the house over the past few months.
We're still about 30 days away from being "finished." There's a bit of cleaning up and closing out for the mud crew - holes created by the framers in existing sheetrock which need to be filled and sanded and filled again. The carpenters (Rick and Joe) have begun to apply the seal material around the windows (sticky tar-like material on one side and vinyl on the other) and paper the outside sheaths with tarpaper (which is easier to work with and more precise and somewhat cheaper than the ubiquitous Tyvek) and finish that up with the siding. The back side of the house now is nearly finished with everything but the various and many coats of paint. The front is beginning to get the same treatment. The house is beginning to take not only its final form but its final look. And, it looks good. With the siding and the windows in place, my neighbors have begun to drop by and provide additional compliments because now the place looks more "finished." It has already received endless compliments on the basic shape and architecture. But this past week especially, it has received compliments on the appearance. In fact, I've even begun to receive advice on how to make the garden and fence integrate with the new look of the house. At least one neighbor thanked me for adding this "asset" to the neighborhood. That's a very positive and encouraging statement because in the most real sense possible Katherine and I have "invested" in Seattle - particularly in West Seattle.
This is not a shy city nor is this a shy neighborhood. Everyone has an opinion and has no qualms about offering it unsolicited. The most frequently and repeated question I've been asked is "what do you call that thing," referring to the aerie. Turns out that only about half the folks I've run across have heard of the word aerie before, but when I say "crow's nest" or "lookout" they get the purpose immediately. And, from conversations with now score upon score of individuals, it seems that it's not uncommon to have windows in a tower which has no floor below them, but rather which are used only to light the interior of the tower. That we have a floor where we can sit or stand and look out seems to some as a surprise - a positive characteristic for sure, but a surprise no less.
One would think that having a builder manage the work would free one to do other things, but living in the house while this level of work is being accomplished means maintaining an active participation in the whole level of activity. Making sure I know what's going to happen the next day so I can secure or move certain items from certain rooms or be prepared for yet another delivery. We've received the parts for the spiral staircase from the second floor landing to the aerie. It's a 13-foot, three-inch diameter steel pole, eleven steel treadals, eleven oak treadle inserts, 33 36-inch high railing standards, one appropriately-long one-and-a-half-inch diameter aluminum railing rolled into a huge coil about five feet in diameter, one top-of-the-stairs hand railing, and (we hope) a set of instructions and hardware to assemble this thing.
We've still got to go find two towel racks and a toilet paper dispenser and one hanging light fixture (for the stairwell landing).
I told Todd Schulte the other day that I was at the point where I believe my patience was running on reserve and my anticipation for them to be both finished and out of our hair was approaching its peak. We both discussed the similarities between this phase of construction and the few weeks before Christmas when everything approaches a tornado velocity and decided we could both live through it and survive. For Todd it means getting all the finishing items done on time and coordinating all the close-out sub-contractors. As an example, we have a balcony deck finishing sub coming this week to pour the fiberglass deck treatment on the balcony. That meant his carpenters had to create a special containment device which would then be removed. Prior to that Todd and Lisa (our architect) and I had to settle on the final balcony railing treatment and set of materials.
On the plus side, with all the windows installed and functioning, we are no longer heating the outside world every time the furnace fires up. For the past 45 days or so we've been fighting a losing battle with respect to keeping most of the house a temperate zone while having portions of the house completely open to the elements. At least that phase is behind us. Of course, there are nuances for every element and phase. Now that the tower is finished with roof and soffet supports but no soffets yet, there are two sparrow families and one starling family who have decided that the best place in the neighborhood to build their nests is under the roof of my aerie. Each day there are tufts of insulation which are tossed thirty feet to the ground by one or more birds who are rearranging their nest. They will be chased out by Rick and Joe when they get the soffets installed, but in the meantime there may or may not be baby sparrows and starlings to contend with. At one point this past week the starling got unhappy with all the window work going on in the tower and went to the closest power line and spent the next hour chanting and tweating in a strange and alien-like high-pitched wail which either was the longest expression of disgust and dissatisfaction I've ever heard from a bird or the most plaintive call for help I've ever heard - because no other starlings came to the rescue. When the sparrows chirp for help they seem to get plenty of their kind to at least flock in the vicinity of the aerie nest even if they won't actually do anything. Not quite the scene from "The Birds" but close enough to cause all of us to laugh at the amazing futility of both bird and man - the birds to make their nest in peace and man in trying to build something without birds attempting to nest.
I wish I could hire some of the local hawks to do my bidding. The squirrels, in the meantime, seem bemused by everything - scurrying along the fence top stopping on occasion to watch and then scurrying along their way. The crows, too, seem bemused by all this and only bother to get involved when the crew leaves leftovers in the trash bags in my yard and then the crows do their very clever and very disruptive thing finding and getting those choice leftover morsels. I'm always amazed that crows have that good a sense of smell that they can find something buried inside three plastic grocery bags deep inside a thick plastic trash bag filled with nails, sawdust, scraps of lumber and other debris. And yet find the food they do. We should just leave it out for their pleasure.
Midway through all this harangue Adam and I stole away late last week to catch "Super Size Me," the movie. Like so much else of what I do, going to the Queen Anne Uptown movie theater to see this flick was fraught with native risk and hidden challenges. Adam and I got to Queen Anne easily enough and went straight to the theater to check when the box office opened. When we got there we found there was a power outage on that portion of the block and that it wouldn't open until 1:00 at the earliest.
We wandered around the neighborhood a bit and headed back toward the Uptown as it approached 1:00 pm. We walked behind the Safeway on lower Queen Anne Avenue and found a most interesting sight - a huge set of industrial-sized natural gas pipes and meters set up so they looked like the pipes at a refinery. On one of the largest diameter pipes, about 6 inches across, was a huge warning sign plastered on the street-facing side. "Warning," it screamed in red letters on a white background. "2 LB Pressure." Whoa! Two pounds pressure! Next time I fill my car tires to their required 37 LB Pressure I'll be sure to wear a fencing mask and gloves and use appropriate robotic tools for the task. Now what the heck? Two pounds pressure in a gas line is nothing. The local Puget Energy gas man came out to our house a while back because when Rick and Andy were working on the foundation to the tower they complained that they smelled gas. Not wanting to be unsafe and not sure whether they did or did not knick a gas line, though they swore they weren't even close to where it was supposed to be, I called Puget Energy and asked that they come and do a "sniff" test. Whlle he was performing the tests, the Puget Energy gas man told me that the normal pressure for gas lines entering residential meters is from 5 to 8 pounds pressure. That's less than the pressure of air inside a balloon and way less than the nearby water hose pressure.
So, don't know what's going on with the Safeway gas meter setup but it does serve in a strange way to illustrate how we misplace our risk management. We don't label McDonald's food as dangerous - there are no warning signs or labels on any of their products - and yet we over label a mildly hazardous natural gas metering area.
Another bemusing note about the afternoon on Queen Anne. As we wandered back toward the theater to see if the electricity was back we walked around the few blocks around the area and overheard a variety of individuals and groups expressing what seemed to be great dismay and/or extreme surprise that the electricity was out. What struck me was how almost ridiculously dependent we have become on all these modern conveniences. It's like the electricity can never be out without it surprising us - and this, of course, was the middle of the day on a bright, warm and sunny day. No reason for electricity to be out - no storm, no ice, no natural disaster causing lines to be pulled down. Some of the reactions we overheard sounded as if to these individuals the absence of electricity on a city block was about as bizarre an experience as they've had. I suppose that's about right - we've become so used to everything that when anything goes awry we react like primitives. I'm equally guilty. I do expect the electricity to be out on occasion but I really don't expect the phone to be out and I am always "shocked" when - for whatever reason - I lose broadband. That hasn't happened to me here - yet. But losing the phone and broadband (DSL) or cable seemed a commonplace occurrence in the District. It was more likely to be the phone or cable or DSL or even water which was out in DC than the electricity. And, yes, I still keep candles and matches on hand along with flashlights and batteries.
We made it back to the Uptown theater and noted that they had changed the sign to indicate that as soon as electricity was restored they would be open. Electricity was still out so we dropped in on Uptown Espresso, a couple doors north of the theater, got a couple of double-shot mochas, a few snacks and went and sat on the sidewalk in front of the Uptown. We were there probably twenty minutes, watching everyone walking up and down that stretch of Queen Anne Avenue and overhearing their "shock" at the lack of electricity, when I noticed - all of a sudden - that the lights at the corner right there at Republican Street began blinking red. "Electricity's back," I shouted, more for the theater employees who were outside on a smoke break than to anyone and saw them scamper back inside. We stood up and went to the the box office to see if we could still get in for the 1:30 pm showing of "Super Size Me," even though it was 25 minutes past that time already. It took the guys inside about another ten minutes to get their computer ticketing system back online and responsive at which point they said the next showing of "Super Size Me" would be the regular 2:50 pm showing and we bought tickets for that and headed over to Seattle Center.
We walked the four or so blocks to the Center, and took a seat around the perimeter of the International Fountain and spent thirty or so minutes watching a series of school outings play with the fountain and each other - with most of the students deliberately getting either soaked or dripping wet. We wandered around the Center some and then headed back for the Uptown to take out seats for the showing. When we walked inside the main screen auditorium we exclaimed "Wow, we've got it all to ourselves," at which point the only other couple there made a noise so we'd know we really weren't "that" alone. Well, those two took seats about the middle and Adam and I took seats in the fourth row, dead center, and settled in for the previews and movie.
First a warning: I found Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" to be in line with my sensibilities and found Moore the same strident and relentless hard-knocker he was when I first saw "Roger and Me." Moore is as far left as Limbaugh is right, and the both are as loud, unrepentant, and obnoxious to listen to as is possible from a human. Morgan Spurlock, the director and test monkey of "Super Size Me," is not at all like Moore or Limbaugh. He's funny, at times pathetic as he tries to continue with his challenge, and illuminating - both personally and as a director-producer. The movie is a collection of facts sandwiched around the central theme - eating three meals a day from only the McDonalds menu for a whole month - 90 fat-filled, empty-calorie, chemical-charged, servings. At the beginning of the film, Spurlock, born in 1970 in Parkersburg, West Virginia, is a six-foot-two-inch healthy male with eleven percent body fat and good blood and endocrine chemistry with no discernible medical issues. He uses three licensed and valid physicians and a nutritionist and physical therapist throughout the film to monitor his body and his condition as he eats his way through a huge number of McDonalds throughout the country.
By the end of the film two of his doctors are alarmed at his condition - his liver has begun to show signs of failing and may be scarred permanently after this is done. His overall health has declined deleteriously and he has gained nearly 30 pounds, all fat. His mental health has also declined and he has mood swings and periods of depression. His girlfriend - a Vegan who is in shock at his project - complains that his lovemaking has deteriorated and that he has no energy and has become lethargic about everything. On camera, Spurlock appears to deteriorate physically as well. His face is now pallid and he appears to have the beginnings of stress lines throughout his brow and eye socket areas. It's not a pretty sight during portions of the flick. His humor never seems to leave him, but near the end of the flick Spurlock does begin to express worry and concern that this may be a "past the point of no-return" project.
What we learn from this flick is equally distressing. Most of the country's school systems, nearly all of its prisons, and a goodly percentage of the entire population eat food prepared by one or more companies which turn foodstuff into processed, chemically-laden, delicious-tasting, but really bad-for-you meals. A survey conducted by the film producers of 100 nutrition experts at 100 universities throughout the country showed a 98 percent recommendation that one eat a "prepared" or "fast food" meal no more than once a month and preferably never. The sad physical condition of our fellow citizens is due almost entirely to a lifestyle change which has allowed us to purchase this type of food anywhere coupled with a level of convenience and reliance on automation and the automobile to the near exclusion of real exercise.
Of course, what's really worse about seeing this film is that it contains nothing which one didn't already know instinctively. One should exercise. One shouldn't hop in a car to go half-a-mile or take a cab to travel a dozen blocks in the city. One shouldn't eat fast food meals on a continuous basis. One should get real fruits and vegetables with sparse protein and sugar servings but goodly whole grain servings. One should know their metabolism level and consume the number and proper kind of calories which equal their requirements. For most humans that's a level from 1800 to 2800 calories a day depending on all the usual variables including local physical activity. Sadly, most of us eat at least ten percent more than we consume in energy expenditures. We're not bears so we don't need to stock on fat for the winter and yet we live today as if we were all bears heading for a perpetual winter.
The film is not so much a lecture as presentation, in the most humorous and illuminating manner possible, of what is going on with us as a people. We've become lazy about everything, including cooking our own food from the proper set of ingredients. A good example is reading the ingredient list on a loaf of simple bread - if it contains more than three or four items then it's probably not good for you. Opening up a can of Hunt's Manwich and putting that on top of a white-bread hamburger bun with some canned vegetables is loading you up on empty calories from the bread and excess sodium from the vegetables and meat product and adding processed sugar to most of it. Bad, bad, bad. And yet most would think that was a reasonable home-cooked meal. It's just too easy to eat this way. And too easy to hop in the car to get that latte afterwards rather than taking the twenty-minute walk to the coffee shop. Just as easy to hire the neighborhood teenager to mow the lawn or clean the windows.
Super Size Me doesn't dictate any solutions. There are no solutions. Since our health and diet problems are endemic and of our own doing, the only real solution is for each of us to examine our own bodies, our own diets and our own lifestyles and ask ourselves if this is really the way we want to be. For me, it ain't and long ago I started to eat what I was supposed to and have been addicted to exercise - at least in the form of cycling - since I was a pre-pubescent kid. Consequently, all my medical examinations and physicals have shown a healthy male body, typically of less than my actual number of real years. But, like so much else about our lives - this is all about personal choice. People do what they want to do. Michael Spurlock is just trying to show some of the consequences of some of the choices. In that sense, if you see the film and know you have bad eating or exercise habits, don't be surprised if you are disgruntled when you walk out of the theater. If you want to see the consequences of acting really foolishly with one's diet and exercise habits - go see the film. In a mere thirty days, Michael Spurlock goes from a healthy 34 year old male to a sadly self-abused sloth whose health is borderline. He does not, however, grate on your nerves like Rush Limbaugh or Michael Moore do.
When it was done, Adam and I headed back north on Queen Anne to catch an 18 bus home and got home about thirty minutes later. I had taken my camera with me so I had a bunch of photos around Queen Anne, including the gas warning sign and a few others, and had taken some interesting shots of the school kids cavorting with the fountain.
Adam heads to DC this coming Tuesday to spend the summer living with Leif and working to pay his share of the leased townhouse. He and Leif will find an appropriate solution for replacing his stolen bicycle - maybe a used bike or maybe getting to REI to find a new replacement. By the time he returns this Fall the house will be finished and he can begin again his academic career. He has applied for a transfer to the University of Washington and so far the indications are that it will be approved. Hopefully the summer will be great fun for Adam and Leif both. Adam will get a taste of life-after college since he'll have to be working on a regular schedule to pay his share of the rent and hopefully he'll have fun with his long-time friends in the city.
Come August I'll drive across the country and pick them both up in DC and head for the Culbreth Clan (mom's side) bi-annual beach reunion. That's always a fun gig and it's great to be so close to all my aunts and uncles and cousins that we can see how we all have aged and watch as our kids grow into the same traditions and customs. It's an old Scottish clan - the Culbreths - and they've been doing this beach gig for a long time. We'll visit the family gravesite in Scots Hill again, see the two, three, four and older generation headstones in the original part of the church graveyard. I'll think back to those long-ago times and how these relatives that I've never met might have been and what their lives might have been like in the 19th and 20th Centuries and think again of the ones I did know - a few great aunts, my grandmother and grandfather, and one cousin (already).
I'll be with my Mom again, which is always good. She's 87 and still fends for herself and is still fighting some arthritis and perhaps a few pinched nerves. I'll realize, once again, how precious our time on this planet is and look at my kids and think forward to what they might be like long after I'm gone. As much as I love the family reunions, I also think they serve a deeper and more profound purpose. The remind me, at least, that we need to be diligent in how we raise our offspring because we need to remember where we came from and where we might be headed. We need to remember what life was like before we arrived here. It's harder and harder to realize the pioneering days and the struggles our forebears went through. All the more made apparent by the shock and dismay expressed over a blown circuit breaker in the Lower Queen Anne area.
The next week will see the continuation of Todd's crew putting the siding up on the house. The interior is nearly done and it's time for the electricians to hook up the new panel and install all the outlets and switches and lights. Soon it'll be time for the painting and carpeting. I've told of our plans for an open house to probably a hundred-plus individuals now and received amazing responses of "wow, can't wait." Next, I suppose I'll have to find the right veggies and whatnot and wine, tea, coffees to serve. That'll be fun and I'll get a chance to see a huge slice of the neighborhood in one place. This being Seattle, I'll have to get some doggy treats as well and maybe a few doggy toys.
Lots of photos below, including a series on sun reflections along buildings on Fourth Avenue, downtown.. Have a great week. There really is an Ides of May.
Chas
Standing inside Adam's multimedia room looking north towards the foyer.
Looking in the other direction in Adam's room, this view is toward the
southeast. If the tree in the view ever gets chopped away (which the
neighbor who owns it wants to do), Mt. Rainier is right where the tree is now.
In Winter, the view of the mountain would still be unimpeded.
Adam standing on roof deck with Puget Sound behind.
View of Adam on roof deck with Tower in the distance.
The plenum space, illuminated by Canon Elph flash and cleaned by me
the previous weekend. Access will be through a "cabinet" style door
midway up the stairwell.
Looking northwest in my multimedia room with many boxes of mud and
an array of mud tools lined up. There will be an "L" shaped riser beneath
the windows of about 9-inches height which will be matched by a riser
on the deck side through the window on the left. This will allow easier entry
and exit from and to the deck from inside.
A triptych view of some of the more interesting sets of windows in the house. The left view shows the siding applied to the
back of the house and how it will look. Notice that the coursing for the siding is slightly wider as it goes toward the roofline.
This will have the effect of "toning" down the vertical scale of the house. The windows in the left and center view are shown
in their open position. Some sets of windows contain non-functioning plate glass windows for safety with the casement
windows serving as doors in the case of the center view.
Many of the angles of the house are not apparent until at least half-a-block away, so these views are all from half-way down the
street. On the left is the east-facing side of the house, in the center is the northeast corner of the house, and on the right
are the north and west facing sides.
View of soap bowls along Fourth Avenue in Belltown.
Mirrors reflecting me upside down along Fourth Avenue on a recent
jaunt into town for a meetup session at Uptown Espresso in Belltown.
A vertically correct view of me through a mirror in another shop along
Fourth Avenue in Belltown.
Reflection of the setting sun off one of the glass-and-steel
building fronting Fourth Avenue in Belltown. This view
is facing west and the sun was slightly northwest of here.
View of the setting sun through the west and south windows
of a corner condominium in Belltown.
Sun glinting off mirror windows along Fourth Avenue late in the day.
Further north along Fourth we find more reflections of the late evening sun.
On the west alley behind Fourth, I found these interesting back reflections
of the sun from the west side of an office building on Fourth. This is
looking west but the reflections are coming from the east off the other
building.
Looking northwest through the corner windows of a high rise
condominium along Second from the alleyway next to Fourth Avenue.
Peering over the roofline of yet another building in the alley to the west
of Fourth Avenue and catching the sun through the corner windows of
yet another Second Avenue Belltown condominium.
Looking southwest and catching the late evening sun glint off a
condominium on Second Avenue. The sun was northwest.
Looking east towards Fifth Avenue and the original Monorail tracks at this
sun-lit portion of one of the structures along Fourth Avenue. The sun
was casting this light and shadow combination as it shown past the
intervening structures north of this building.
Looking straight up at the center units in a condominium along Fourth
Avenue at Wall Street. Notice the array of open windows trying to
capitalize on the wonderful weather we were having on this particular
Wednesday.
You've heard about them, read about them, maybe even seen them.
The tent caterpillars! These were emerging from their cocoon having
devoured the leaves it was enclosing. These caterpillars are roughly
one-and-a-half inches long and about 3/32-inch across.
With the image of squirming caterpillars in your mind, here's a young lady
stirring and folding the fudge on a marble table at Seattle Center's food court.
Here's a set of images showing the taffy folding machine at the Seattle Center food court. This is a fascinating machine to watch as its two
articulated arms go around each other, folding the taffy and pulling it in the process. These photos were taken after the flavoring and color
were added. Previous to that, this taffy material was a pale white color - it is only sugar and butter.
A series of shots showing the Seattle Center's International Fountain and interactive school kids over a four minute period.
The initial sign in the box office at the Uptown Theater in Queen Anne.
The sign was subsequently updated to indicate they would be open as
soon as electricity was restored to this area.
The gas plumbing behind the Safeway grocery store in Lower Queen Anne. Not a single meter was indicating any use
of gas. This plumbing collection seems quite elaborate, up to and including the motor-driven main valve at the
lower right.
Really hard to know what to do with a warning such as this.
And speaking of warnings...The area of the sign which is shown in
reverse gray has been modified from its original black-on-white by
me to emphasize the ridiculous nature of this warning. What crime
might be perpetrated against a facility - grafiti? scratching of the brick?
throwing of mud against the building? Also, we could find no evidence
of any video input device anywhere in a half-block area from this sign.
We're wondering, then, how they manage to record the activities unless
there's some clever system involving perception other than visual.
And whose fault is that? If I weren't such a weather weanie I'd have been out in the 50 degree days we've had or the windy but sunny 60 degree days. Instead I've been tied (think tethered, as in ball around a pole) to the house or the vicinity of the house. We've had a lot of activity which has required one of two responses. Either we decide to eat out all the time and live inside a "moving van" or I hang around and move things from one room to the next and put up or take down a plastic wall.
In addition to the regular Schulte Construction (Rick and Joe) there's been - first the sheetrockers (or dry wall guys, or just "rockers") and, once they were done cutting and putting up square after square of compressed gypsum board, the "mudders." I've been stuck in a 1950's sci-fi movie where everything was done by the same person and in the meantime - or rather a whole half-century later in real time - the world of construction has specialized. Carpenters (framers, finishers) now have portable power tools - wired or wireless, or is that corded and cordless?, which make "This Old House" seem like an antique show. Porter-Cable, DeWalt, Milwaukee, Makita, Hitachi, Skil, and others, are everywhere. And, like the farm implements of today, they come in your favorite colors - yellow, red (two shades), blue (two shades), no green though. Air pumps power half of these tools, especially the nail-guns. There are nail-guns which load like staplers, one each for each of the different kind and size nail. There are other nail-guns which load magazine fashion like old-style Gatling guns with rolls of different speciality nails. There is even a powerful bar magnet in an aluminum frame on wheels which one rolls around the yard or floor to pick up the missed nails since every nail-gun either misses on occasion or must be fired to ascertain that it's working properly. And, once it is, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk, and on and on. The nails which load like staples are held in a clip with little plastic connectors which pop off the wood when the nail enters like fragments of a rock hit by a real bullet. Consequently there's this smashed plastic debris everywhere - one for each nail, and there must be tens of thousands of nails used so far.
But none of that even approaches the pervasiveness of the white gypsum powder from the rockers. Every board cut, every board nailed or screwed, every board even moved an inch seems to exude this fine white powder. I've wiped the same items in the same room twice a day for a week now and still there's this white powder everywhere. For every cut of the table saw, or the chop saw, or the Skil saw, or even of the hand saws, there's an equal amount of not-quite-microscopic but not-quite-tangible sawdust. One area of my yard is so powdered with sawdust that it's almost like fingerprint powder in allowing me to see the ground in beyond-three-dimensional capacity. There is a mole hole right behind the area where the chop saw is usually set up which has been three-dimensionalized beyond Hollywood's wildest dreams. This hole was practically invisible, a tiny entrance (or exit) to the world of the fast-moving mole. It exited the ground somewhat horizonal from an area where the garden dirt was built-up for the various flowering plants, masking the actual mole hill behind. With a couple days's worth of fine sawdust, the mole hole could not be more obvious nor visible if it were lit and pointed to by neon lights.
So I move things from kitchen and dining room to living room and bedroom, put up and move plastic walls held in place by high-tech tension poles. After eight hours I move some things back and move other things further away to allow the next day's activity to continue while maintaining a reasonable level of both dust and disruption. In between and throughout the day I use a broom or vacuum cleaner or both to chase some of the worst-offending collections.
This weekend the two sidewalk areas of my yard and most of the front and side yards were relatively free of equipment and supplies. Fighting for electricity with the various crew, I used my mower to get most of the high grass chopped down and then spent interim time here and there, keeping out of the way of wherever the different crew members needed to be, and trimmed the remaining parts of the yard. It's almost a shame there isn't a cinematographer following all of us around using low-frame-per-second frame rates to capture the ballet which is going on around this place.
All the windows are installed - a few need tweaking or repair from the manufacturer (Milguard), all the sheetrock is installed and most of the mud (spackle for the rest of us) has been layered on and sanded and layered and sanded. That's probably the most amazing realization I've made about all the specialization which has occurred in the building trades. There are now automatic tools which dispense with both tape and mud at the same time, which work corners or straight walls equally well. Some of these mud tools and some of the sheetrock tools cost hundreds to thousands of dollars and the better craftspeople have a tool for every requirement. We're paying for and getting some of the best craftspeople in all these various skills so there's been a mint of building tools left in the house over the past few months.
We're still about 30 days away from being "finished." There's a bit of cleaning up and closing out for the mud crew - holes created by the framers in existing sheetrock which need to be filled and sanded and filled again. The carpenters (Rick and Joe) have begun to apply the seal material around the windows (sticky tar-like material on one side and vinyl on the other) and paper the outside sheaths with tarpaper (which is easier to work with and more precise and somewhat cheaper than the ubiquitous Tyvek) and finish that up with the siding. The back side of the house now is nearly finished with everything but the various and many coats of paint. The front is beginning to get the same treatment. The house is beginning to take not only its final form but its final look. And, it looks good. With the siding and the windows in place, my neighbors have begun to drop by and provide additional compliments because now the place looks more "finished." It has already received endless compliments on the basic shape and architecture. But this past week especially, it has received compliments on the appearance. In fact, I've even begun to receive advice on how to make the garden and fence integrate with the new look of the house. At least one neighbor thanked me for adding this "asset" to the neighborhood. That's a very positive and encouraging statement because in the most real sense possible Katherine and I have "invested" in Seattle - particularly in West Seattle.
This is not a shy city nor is this a shy neighborhood. Everyone has an opinion and has no qualms about offering it unsolicited. The most frequently and repeated question I've been asked is "what do you call that thing," referring to the aerie. Turns out that only about half the folks I've run across have heard of the word aerie before, but when I say "crow's nest" or "lookout" they get the purpose immediately. And, from conversations with now score upon score of individuals, it seems that it's not uncommon to have windows in a tower which has no floor below them, but rather which are used only to light the interior of the tower. That we have a floor where we can sit or stand and look out seems to some as a surprise - a positive characteristic for sure, but a surprise no less.
One would think that having a builder manage the work would free one to do other things, but living in the house while this level of work is being accomplished means maintaining an active participation in the whole level of activity. Making sure I know what's going to happen the next day so I can secure or move certain items from certain rooms or be prepared for yet another delivery. We've received the parts for the spiral staircase from the second floor landing to the aerie. It's a 13-foot, three-inch diameter steel pole, eleven steel treadals, eleven oak treadle inserts, 33 36-inch high railing standards, one appropriately-long one-and-a-half-inch diameter aluminum railing rolled into a huge coil about five feet in diameter, one top-of-the-stairs hand railing, and (we hope) a set of instructions and hardware to assemble this thing.
We've still got to go find two towel racks and a toilet paper dispenser and one hanging light fixture (for the stairwell landing).
I told Todd Schulte the other day that I was at the point where I believe my patience was running on reserve and my anticipation for them to be both finished and out of our hair was approaching its peak. We both discussed the similarities between this phase of construction and the few weeks before Christmas when everything approaches a tornado velocity and decided we could both live through it and survive. For Todd it means getting all the finishing items done on time and coordinating all the close-out sub-contractors. As an example, we have a balcony deck finishing sub coming this week to pour the fiberglass deck treatment on the balcony. That meant his carpenters had to create a special containment device which would then be removed. Prior to that Todd and Lisa (our architect) and I had to settle on the final balcony railing treatment and set of materials.
On the plus side, with all the windows installed and functioning, we are no longer heating the outside world every time the furnace fires up. For the past 45 days or so we've been fighting a losing battle with respect to keeping most of the house a temperate zone while having portions of the house completely open to the elements. At least that phase is behind us. Of course, there are nuances for every element and phase. Now that the tower is finished with roof and soffet supports but no soffets yet, there are two sparrow families and one starling family who have decided that the best place in the neighborhood to build their nests is under the roof of my aerie. Each day there are tufts of insulation which are tossed thirty feet to the ground by one or more birds who are rearranging their nest. They will be chased out by Rick and Joe when they get the soffets installed, but in the meantime there may or may not be baby sparrows and starlings to contend with. At one point this past week the starling got unhappy with all the window work going on in the tower and went to the closest power line and spent the next hour chanting and tweating in a strange and alien-like high-pitched wail which either was the longest expression of disgust and dissatisfaction I've ever heard from a bird or the most plaintive call for help I've ever heard - because no other starlings came to the rescue. When the sparrows chirp for help they seem to get plenty of their kind to at least flock in the vicinity of the aerie nest even if they won't actually do anything. Not quite the scene from "The Birds" but close enough to cause all of us to laugh at the amazing futility of both bird and man - the birds to make their nest in peace and man in trying to build something without birds attempting to nest.
I wish I could hire some of the local hawks to do my bidding. The squirrels, in the meantime, seem bemused by everything - scurrying along the fence top stopping on occasion to watch and then scurrying along their way. The crows, too, seem bemused by all this and only bother to get involved when the crew leaves leftovers in the trash bags in my yard and then the crows do their very clever and very disruptive thing finding and getting those choice leftover morsels. I'm always amazed that crows have that good a sense of smell that they can find something buried inside three plastic grocery bags deep inside a thick plastic trash bag filled with nails, sawdust, scraps of lumber and other debris. And yet find the food they do. We should just leave it out for their pleasure.
Midway through all this harangue Adam and I stole away late last week to catch "Super Size Me," the movie. Like so much else of what I do, going to the Queen Anne Uptown movie theater to see this flick was fraught with native risk and hidden challenges. Adam and I got to Queen Anne easily enough and went straight to the theater to check when the box office opened. When we got there we found there was a power outage on that portion of the block and that it wouldn't open until 1:00 at the earliest.
We wandered around the neighborhood a bit and headed back toward the Uptown as it approached 1:00 pm. We walked behind the Safeway on lower Queen Anne Avenue and found a most interesting sight - a huge set of industrial-sized natural gas pipes and meters set up so they looked like the pipes at a refinery. On one of the largest diameter pipes, about 6 inches across, was a huge warning sign plastered on the street-facing side. "Warning," it screamed in red letters on a white background. "2 LB Pressure." Whoa! Two pounds pressure! Next time I fill my car tires to their required 37 LB Pressure I'll be sure to wear a fencing mask and gloves and use appropriate robotic tools for the task. Now what the heck? Two pounds pressure in a gas line is nothing. The local Puget Energy gas man came out to our house a while back because when Rick and Andy were working on the foundation to the tower they complained that they smelled gas. Not wanting to be unsafe and not sure whether they did or did not knick a gas line, though they swore they weren't even close to where it was supposed to be, I called Puget Energy and asked that they come and do a "sniff" test. Whlle he was performing the tests, the Puget Energy gas man told me that the normal pressure for gas lines entering residential meters is from 5 to 8 pounds pressure. That's less than the pressure of air inside a balloon and way less than the nearby water hose pressure.
So, don't know what's going on with the Safeway gas meter setup but it does serve in a strange way to illustrate how we misplace our risk management. We don't label McDonald's food as dangerous - there are no warning signs or labels on any of their products - and yet we over label a mildly hazardous natural gas metering area.
Another bemusing note about the afternoon on Queen Anne. As we wandered back toward the theater to see if the electricity was back we walked around the few blocks around the area and overheard a variety of individuals and groups expressing what seemed to be great dismay and/or extreme surprise that the electricity was out. What struck me was how almost ridiculously dependent we have become on all these modern conveniences. It's like the electricity can never be out without it surprising us - and this, of course, was the middle of the day on a bright, warm and sunny day. No reason for electricity to be out - no storm, no ice, no natural disaster causing lines to be pulled down. Some of the reactions we overheard sounded as if to these individuals the absence of electricity on a city block was about as bizarre an experience as they've had. I suppose that's about right - we've become so used to everything that when anything goes awry we react like primitives. I'm equally guilty. I do expect the electricity to be out on occasion but I really don't expect the phone to be out and I am always "shocked" when - for whatever reason - I lose broadband. That hasn't happened to me here - yet. But losing the phone and broadband (DSL) or cable seemed a commonplace occurrence in the District. It was more likely to be the phone or cable or DSL or even water which was out in DC than the electricity. And, yes, I still keep candles and matches on hand along with flashlights and batteries.
We made it back to the Uptown theater and noted that they had changed the sign to indicate that as soon as electricity was restored they would be open. Electricity was still out so we dropped in on Uptown Espresso, a couple doors north of the theater, got a couple of double-shot mochas, a few snacks and went and sat on the sidewalk in front of the Uptown. We were there probably twenty minutes, watching everyone walking up and down that stretch of Queen Anne Avenue and overhearing their "shock" at the lack of electricity, when I noticed - all of a sudden - that the lights at the corner right there at Republican Street began blinking red. "Electricity's back," I shouted, more for the theater employees who were outside on a smoke break than to anyone and saw them scamper back inside. We stood up and went to the the box office to see if we could still get in for the 1:30 pm showing of "Super Size Me," even though it was 25 minutes past that time already. It took the guys inside about another ten minutes to get their computer ticketing system back online and responsive at which point they said the next showing of "Super Size Me" would be the regular 2:50 pm showing and we bought tickets for that and headed over to Seattle Center.
We walked the four or so blocks to the Center, and took a seat around the perimeter of the International Fountain and spent thirty or so minutes watching a series of school outings play with the fountain and each other - with most of the students deliberately getting either soaked or dripping wet. We wandered around the Center some and then headed back for the Uptown to take out seats for the showing. When we walked inside the main screen auditorium we exclaimed "Wow, we've got it all to ourselves," at which point the only other couple there made a noise so we'd know we really weren't "that" alone. Well, those two took seats about the middle and Adam and I took seats in the fourth row, dead center, and settled in for the previews and movie.
First a warning: I found Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine" to be in line with my sensibilities and found Moore the same strident and relentless hard-knocker he was when I first saw "Roger and Me." Moore is as far left as Limbaugh is right, and the both are as loud, unrepentant, and obnoxious to listen to as is possible from a human. Morgan Spurlock, the director and test monkey of "Super Size Me," is not at all like Moore or Limbaugh. He's funny, at times pathetic as he tries to continue with his challenge, and illuminating - both personally and as a director-producer. The movie is a collection of facts sandwiched around the central theme - eating three meals a day from only the McDonalds menu for a whole month - 90 fat-filled, empty-calorie, chemical-charged, servings. At the beginning of the film, Spurlock, born in 1970 in Parkersburg, West Virginia, is a six-foot-two-inch healthy male with eleven percent body fat and good blood and endocrine chemistry with no discernible medical issues. He uses three licensed and valid physicians and a nutritionist and physical therapist throughout the film to monitor his body and his condition as he eats his way through a huge number of McDonalds throughout the country.
By the end of the film two of his doctors are alarmed at his condition - his liver has begun to show signs of failing and may be scarred permanently after this is done. His overall health has declined deleteriously and he has gained nearly 30 pounds, all fat. His mental health has also declined and he has mood swings and periods of depression. His girlfriend - a Vegan who is in shock at his project - complains that his lovemaking has deteriorated and that he has no energy and has become lethargic about everything. On camera, Spurlock appears to deteriorate physically as well. His face is now pallid and he appears to have the beginnings of stress lines throughout his brow and eye socket areas. It's not a pretty sight during portions of the flick. His humor never seems to leave him, but near the end of the flick Spurlock does begin to express worry and concern that this may be a "past the point of no-return" project.
What we learn from this flick is equally distressing. Most of the country's school systems, nearly all of its prisons, and a goodly percentage of the entire population eat food prepared by one or more companies which turn foodstuff into processed, chemically-laden, delicious-tasting, but really bad-for-you meals. A survey conducted by the film producers of 100 nutrition experts at 100 universities throughout the country showed a 98 percent recommendation that one eat a "prepared" or "fast food" meal no more than once a month and preferably never. The sad physical condition of our fellow citizens is due almost entirely to a lifestyle change which has allowed us to purchase this type of food anywhere coupled with a level of convenience and reliance on automation and the automobile to the near exclusion of real exercise.
Of course, what's really worse about seeing this film is that it contains nothing which one didn't already know instinctively. One should exercise. One shouldn't hop in a car to go half-a-mile or take a cab to travel a dozen blocks in the city. One shouldn't eat fast food meals on a continuous basis. One should get real fruits and vegetables with sparse protein and sugar servings but goodly whole grain servings. One should know their metabolism level and consume the number and proper kind of calories which equal their requirements. For most humans that's a level from 1800 to 2800 calories a day depending on all the usual variables including local physical activity. Sadly, most of us eat at least ten percent more than we consume in energy expenditures. We're not bears so we don't need to stock on fat for the winter and yet we live today as if we were all bears heading for a perpetual winter.
The film is not so much a lecture as presentation, in the most humorous and illuminating manner possible, of what is going on with us as a people. We've become lazy about everything, including cooking our own food from the proper set of ingredients. A good example is reading the ingredient list on a loaf of simple bread - if it contains more than three or four items then it's probably not good for you. Opening up a can of Hunt's Manwich and putting that on top of a white-bread hamburger bun with some canned vegetables is loading you up on empty calories from the bread and excess sodium from the vegetables and meat product and adding processed sugar to most of it. Bad, bad, bad. And yet most would think that was a reasonable home-cooked meal. It's just too easy to eat this way. And too easy to hop in the car to get that latte afterwards rather than taking the twenty-minute walk to the coffee shop. Just as easy to hire the neighborhood teenager to mow the lawn or clean the windows.
Super Size Me doesn't dictate any solutions. There are no solutions. Since our health and diet problems are endemic and of our own doing, the only real solution is for each of us to examine our own bodies, our own diets and our own lifestyles and ask ourselves if this is really the way we want to be. For me, it ain't and long ago I started to eat what I was supposed to and have been addicted to exercise - at least in the form of cycling - since I was a pre-pubescent kid. Consequently, all my medical examinations and physicals have shown a healthy male body, typically of less than my actual number of real years. But, like so much else about our lives - this is all about personal choice. People do what they want to do. Michael Spurlock is just trying to show some of the consequences of some of the choices. In that sense, if you see the film and know you have bad eating or exercise habits, don't be surprised if you are disgruntled when you walk out of the theater. If you want to see the consequences of acting really foolishly with one's diet and exercise habits - go see the film. In a mere thirty days, Michael Spurlock goes from a healthy 34 year old male to a sadly self-abused sloth whose health is borderline. He does not, however, grate on your nerves like Rush Limbaugh or Michael Moore do.
When it was done, Adam and I headed back north on Queen Anne to catch an 18 bus home and got home about thirty minutes later. I had taken my camera with me so I had a bunch of photos around Queen Anne, including the gas warning sign and a few others, and had taken some interesting shots of the school kids cavorting with the fountain.
Adam heads to DC this coming Tuesday to spend the summer living with Leif and working to pay his share of the leased townhouse. He and Leif will find an appropriate solution for replacing his stolen bicycle - maybe a used bike or maybe getting to REI to find a new replacement. By the time he returns this Fall the house will be finished and he can begin again his academic career. He has applied for a transfer to the University of Washington and so far the indications are that it will be approved. Hopefully the summer will be great fun for Adam and Leif both. Adam will get a taste of life-after college since he'll have to be working on a regular schedule to pay his share of the rent and hopefully he'll have fun with his long-time friends in the city.
Come August I'll drive across the country and pick them both up in DC and head for the Culbreth Clan (mom's side) bi-annual beach reunion. That's always a fun gig and it's great to be so close to all my aunts and uncles and cousins that we can see how we all have aged and watch as our kids grow into the same traditions and customs. It's an old Scottish clan - the Culbreths - and they've been doing this beach gig for a long time. We'll visit the family gravesite in Scots Hill again, see the two, three, four and older generation headstones in the original part of the church graveyard. I'll think back to those long-ago times and how these relatives that I've never met might have been and what their lives might have been like in the 19th and 20th Centuries and think again of the ones I did know - a few great aunts, my grandmother and grandfather, and one cousin (already).
I'll be with my Mom again, which is always good. She's 87 and still fends for herself and is still fighting some arthritis and perhaps a few pinched nerves. I'll realize, once again, how precious our time on this planet is and look at my kids and think forward to what they might be like long after I'm gone. As much as I love the family reunions, I also think they serve a deeper and more profound purpose. The remind me, at least, that we need to be diligent in how we raise our offspring because we need to remember where we came from and where we might be headed. We need to remember what life was like before we arrived here. It's harder and harder to realize the pioneering days and the struggles our forebears went through. All the more made apparent by the shock and dismay expressed over a blown circuit breaker in the Lower Queen Anne area.
The next week will see the continuation of Todd's crew putting the siding up on the house. The interior is nearly done and it's time for the electricians to hook up the new panel and install all the outlets and switches and lights. Soon it'll be time for the painting and carpeting. I've told of our plans for an open house to probably a hundred-plus individuals now and received amazing responses of "wow, can't wait." Next, I suppose I'll have to find the right veggies and whatnot and wine, tea, coffees to serve. That'll be fun and I'll get a chance to see a huge slice of the neighborhood in one place. This being Seattle, I'll have to get some doggy treats as well and maybe a few doggy toys.
Lots of photos below, including a series on sun reflections along buildings on Fourth Avenue, downtown.. Have a great week. There really is an Ides of May.
Chas
Standing inside Adam's multimedia room looking north towards the foyer.
Looking in the other direction in Adam's room, this view is toward the
southeast. If the tree in the view ever gets chopped away (which the
neighbor who owns it wants to do), Mt. Rainier is right where the tree is now.
In Winter, the view of the mountain would still be unimpeded.
Adam standing on roof deck with Puget Sound behind.
View of Adam on roof deck with Tower in the distance.
The plenum space, illuminated by Canon Elph flash and cleaned by me
the previous weekend. Access will be through a "cabinet" style door
midway up the stairwell.
Looking northwest in my multimedia room with many boxes of mud and
an array of mud tools lined up. There will be an "L" shaped riser beneath
the windows of about 9-inches height which will be matched by a riser
on the deck side through the window on the left. This will allow easier entry
and exit from and to the deck from inside.
A triptych view of some of the more interesting sets of windows in the house. The left view shows the siding applied to the
back of the house and how it will look. Notice that the coursing for the siding is slightly wider as it goes toward the roofline.
This will have the effect of "toning" down the vertical scale of the house. The windows in the left and center view are shown
in their open position. Some sets of windows contain non-functioning plate glass windows for safety with the casement
windows serving as doors in the case of the center view.
Many of the angles of the house are not apparent until at least half-a-block away, so these views are all from half-way down the
street. On the left is the east-facing side of the house, in the center is the northeast corner of the house, and on the right
are the north and west facing sides.
View of soap bowls along Fourth Avenue in Belltown.
Mirrors reflecting me upside down along Fourth Avenue on a recent
jaunt into town for a meetup session at Uptown Espresso in Belltown.
A vertically correct view of me through a mirror in another shop along
Fourth Avenue in Belltown.
Reflection of the setting sun off one of the glass-and-steel
building fronting Fourth Avenue in Belltown. This view
is facing west and the sun was slightly northwest of here.
View of the setting sun through the west and south windows
of a corner condominium in Belltown.
Sun glinting off mirror windows along Fourth Avenue late in the day.
Further north along Fourth we find more reflections of the late evening sun.
On the west alley behind Fourth, I found these interesting back reflections
of the sun from the west side of an office building on Fourth. This is
looking west but the reflections are coming from the east off the other
building.
Looking northwest through the corner windows of a high rise
condominium along Second from the alleyway next to Fourth Avenue.
Peering over the roofline of yet another building in the alley to the west
of Fourth Avenue and catching the sun through the corner windows of
yet another Second Avenue Belltown condominium.
Looking southwest and catching the late evening sun glint off a
condominium on Second Avenue. The sun was northwest.
Looking east towards Fifth Avenue and the original Monorail tracks at this
sun-lit portion of one of the structures along Fourth Avenue. The sun
was casting this light and shadow combination as it shown past the
intervening structures north of this building.
Looking straight up at the center units in a condominium along Fourth
Avenue at Wall Street. Notice the array of open windows trying to
capitalize on the wonderful weather we were having on this particular
Wednesday.
You've heard about them, read about them, maybe even seen them.
The tent caterpillars! These were emerging from their cocoon having
devoured the leaves it was enclosing. These caterpillars are roughly
one-and-a-half inches long and about 3/32-inch across.
With the image of squirming caterpillars in your mind, here's a young lady
stirring and folding the fudge on a marble table at Seattle Center's food court.
Here's a set of images showing the taffy folding machine at the Seattle Center food court. This is a fascinating machine to watch as its two
articulated arms go around each other, folding the taffy and pulling it in the process. These photos were taken after the flavoring and color
were added. Previous to that, this taffy material was a pale white color - it is only sugar and butter.
A series of shots showing the Seattle Center's International Fountain and interactive school kids over a four minute period.
The initial sign in the box office at the Uptown Theater in Queen Anne.
The sign was subsequently updated to indicate they would be open as
soon as electricity was restored to this area.
The gas plumbing behind the Safeway grocery store in Lower Queen Anne. Not a single meter was indicating any use
of gas. This plumbing collection seems quite elaborate, up to and including the motor-driven main valve at the
lower right.
Really hard to know what to do with a warning such as this.
And speaking of warnings...The area of the sign which is shown in
reverse gray has been modified from its original black-on-white by
me to emphasize the ridiculous nature of this warning. What crime
might be perpetrated against a facility - grafiti? scratching of the brick?
throwing of mud against the building? Also, we could find no evidence
of any video input device anywhere in a half-block area from this sign.
We're wondering, then, how they manage to record the activities unless
there's some clever system involving perception other than visual.
Posted: Sun - May 16, 2004 at 03:24 PM
Quick Links
Categories
Calendar
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
Archives
XML/RSS Feed
Statistics
Total entries in this blog:
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Jul 04, 2005 05:41 PM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Jul 04, 2005 05:41 PM