Sorry postal workers, it was FedEx’s screw up

I withdraw my unfounded accusations that the post office mis-delivered my Amazon.com package on Wednesday. I jumped to a conclusion and now apologize.

I went to the post office this morning and the postmaster and clerk put the FedEx tracking number into their system multiple times and each time they failed to find any record that the package had been delivered to the post office, which is how I expect Smartpost to work.

They suggested that FedEx never delivered the package – containing an electric fence charger, purchased to dissuade Dora from tunneling out under the back yard chain link fence – to the post office and urged me to contact FedEx.

The FedEx database says the package was delivered to my front door at 9:01 a.m. on Wednesday.

It was not.

At my request, a woman with the Jonesboro FedEx office called me and then queried the driver who handled my package.

She reported the driver couldn’t find our address, so he guessed at it and left it on the front porch of the house across our cul-de-sac. So why didn’t our neighbors see it and call us? Because they do all of their to-ing and fro-ing through their garage door and only rarely use their front door.

After checking the front doors of two other houses, I finally found the right one with my package sitting where the FedEx driver left it two days ago.

I dropped by the post office this afternoon to acknowledge the mistake was not theirs and to thank them for their efforts.

Part of the confusion arose from the fact that the 22-digit tracking number began with 9, which is usually an indicator that it is to be delivered to the post office used by the recipient.

Whatever. Mystery solved. Now I can move on to other matters, like figuring out how our LLC and our downtown office building purchase will affect our taxes.

Fucked again by the Post Office

Dora has won a reprieve, of sorts.

The FedEx Smartpost system delivered the electric fence charger I ordered from Amazon.com to the Brookland Post Office at 9:01 a.m. yesterday.

There were three packages waiting for me in one of the larger package boxes when I picked up the mail, but they were a couple of Amazon
Vine program items and a dog game.

It appears that the woman who sorts the packages put my fence charger into another package box and stuck the key into someone else’s post office box. When I went in search of my package this afternoon, it was not to be found in any of the parcel boxes, suggesting someone picked it up and took it home. Since it wasn’t returned to the post office today as misdelivered, it may be that whoever got it plans to keep it.

This is the second time in two months that this woman has put one of my packages in the wrong parcel box. I don’t want to seem vindictive, but I’ve always thought of the U.S. Postal Service as having a sacred trust with the American people to make sure we get our mail.

My sea was green

Sometime in early 1953, a friend of my mother’s gave her a Sea Scouts uniform they figured would fit me.

It did and it inspired me to create a make-believe PT (Patrol Torpedo) boat in the back yard of our new (to us) home at 917 E. Columbia St., in Delphi, Ind. It didn’t have any torpedoes, but it did have a makeshift rear-firing machine gun and a mast topped with a 48-star U.S. flag.

I can date the photo with reasonable accuracy because we moved into the house in April, 1953 and I started wearing glasses around June, 1953.

Although my parents were Democrats, the legend of John F. Kennedy and PT 109 had not yet entered the public consciousness, so my little project was not Kennedy-inspired. World War II had only been over about eight years and my lifelong fascination with the war already had me in its grip.

Updating a blogpost from 10 years ago

Ever play the "degrees of separation" game? The one where you figure out how many acquaintances separate you from someone else - usually famous.
One degree would be someone you've actually met and spoken with. Two degrees would be someone they've met, and on and on.
Like, for instance, there are four degrees of separation between me and Adolf Hitler: My German friend Irmi (1 degree) is the daughter of a seamstress (2 degrees) who did personal work for Eva Braun (3 degrees) who, of course, was the eventual wife of Hitler (4 degrees).
So here's what comes to mind at the moment:

Former Ind. Gov. Mitch Daniels (1 degree)

Former Ind. Gov. Otis Bowen (1 degree)

Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (1 degree)

The Beach Boys (1 degree)

Natalie Cole (1 degree)

Buckminster Fuller (1 degree)

Doreen Tracey (original Mouseketeer)(1 degree)

Jazz Saxophonist Rick Margitza (1 degree)

Arkansas Gov. Mike Beebe (1 degree)

Arkansas Atty. Gen. Dustin McDaniel (1 degree)

Penn Jillette (2 degrees)

Carlos Santana (2 degrees)

George W. Bush (2 degrees)

Chick Corea (2 degrees)

Tony Blair (3 degrees)

Vladimir Putin (3 degrees)

George H. W. Bush (2 degrees)

Dan Quayle (2 degrees)

Ronald Reagan (2 degrees)

Margaret Thatcher (3 degrees)

The Beatles (2 degrees)

The Rolling Stones (2 degrees)

Nat King Cole (2 degrees)

Walt Disney (2 degrees)

Michael Eisner (2 degrees)

Billy Graham (2 degrees)

Willie Nelson (2 degrees)

Barbara Mandrell (2 degrees)

Clayton Moore (The Lone Ranger) (2 degrees)

Bob Dylan (3 degrees)

Tom Petty (3 degrees)

Roy Orbison (3 degrees)

Donovan (2 degrees)

The Who (3 degrees)

Queen Elizabeth II (3 degrees)

Prince Charles (3 degrees)

Princess Diana (3 degrees)

Weird Al Yankovic (2 degrees)

Hermann Göring (4 degrees)

Heinrich Himmler (4 degrees)

Albert Speer (4 degrees)

Josef Göbbels (4 degrees)

Tom Brokaw (2 degrees)

Jim Davis (creator of Garfield)(1 degree)

Upping the ante

Dora continues to dig at the fence line but, thanks to our constant vigilance, she hasn’t tunneled out again.

After discussing the problem with BMW friends Charlie and Deb, I decided an electric fence is appropriate. I ordered this model, designed specifically for pet containment, from Amazon.com. It is supposed to arrive on Wednesday and I’ll set it up as soon as weather permits.

Jazz brunch at Boscos

Charlie and Deb thanked us for dog-sitting their Weimaraner Liese by treating us to the Sunday jazz brunch at Boscos in Memphis today.

As usual, the food and ambiance were perfect. And, as usual, I ate too much.

So it goes.

Why I won’t buy a Kermit chair

Behold the Kermit chair, long considered the premiere motorcycle camping chair.

Many, if not most, of my BMW motorcycle friends own at least one of these and carry them to rallies and other events. They are considered a de rigueur accessory, at least in the BMW motorcycle community. (That means you can’t be cool without one.)

The Kermit chair disassembles into a relatively small package that goes into a 4”x22” sack and weighs about 5.3 pounds.

Even when I had more disposable income to play with, I couldn’t see spending $139 for a camping chair that still needed $40 leg extensions to achieve a comfortable height. But the 22” packed dimension was the real deal-breaker for me. I just hate the idea of giving up that much packing space on my bike for a chair.

But the older I get, the more I require the comfort of a camp chair. Sitting on the ground is very uncomfortable for me and I can only stand for so long before that becomes tiresome.

So I came to the realization that it makes more economic sense to ride to the rally venue without a chair, set up my tent and dump my stuff, and ride to the nearest Walmart – there are 4,177 of them in the U.S. – and buy a reasonably comfortable cheapo $7 folding chair to use for the duration of the rally. They even come with a built-in cup holder or two that would cost me another $18 on a Kermit chair, pushing the Kermit cost (with leg extenders) to $197. At the end of the rally, I pack my tent and other gear and donate the Walmart chair to whoever wants it.

For $197, I can buy, use and abandon 28 Walmart folding chairs. If I were to go to all the rallies I can stand this year – Daytona, European Riders Rally, BMW RA, BMW MOA, and Falling Leaf – and repeat that pace year after year, it will take me more than five years to spend as much as a tricked-out Kermit chair costs. (I only made it to two rallies last year, so five a year is pushing it for me.)

Besides, I don’t have to worry about someone stealing my chair.

The battle of wits continues

I wish Dora had waited for warmer weather to begin this battle of wits.

Maria and I labored in sub-freezing temperatures yesterday afternoon to close her latest escape tunnel and head off more digging in the immediate area. Fortunately, we have plenty of logs from the tree we had cut down a couple of months ago, so we are prepared to extend the barricade as needed until we can effect a more lasting remedy.

In the meantime, she’s spending less time outside and is under constant surveillance while in the back yard.

She and Jack seemed fixated on something in the woods last night. When I scanned the area with my tactical LED flashlight, I saw five or more pairs of eyes lit up and looking back at me. I couldn’t tell if they were coyotes or deer. I certainly don’t want my dogs tangling with coyotes. Jack could probably take care of himself, but they would probably make a meal of Dora.

Time to put new batteries and a fresh memory card into the trailcam and see what’s out there.

Now that’s a knife

Here’s Darrell, a representative of Sharp Select, doing a tomato slicing demonstration last evening at the Jonesboro Sam’s Club.

I was there on a grocery run when I got seduced into watching his sales pitch on the promise of a free paring knife. The deluxe knife set he was selling looked like a pretty good deal for under $50, but we really don’t need any new knives.

She did it again

Dora dug her way out of the back yard again this morning.

I discovered her escape when I prepared to kennel the dogs so they would be warm (it’s 19 degrees) and safe while I went in to town to run some errands.

Once again, I ran outside through the garage and shouted for her several times in different directions. About a minute later, she came racing up from the front yard.

I escorted her to her kennel in the bedroom, kenneled Jack and went out to find the new tunnel. It was about 10 feet to the left of the original escape route, making it clear we’re going to have to take some kind of decisive action to prevent further tunneling under the chainlink fence.

In the meantime, I blocked the access with a couple of plastic lawn chairs which I hope are too awkward and heavy for her to move.

I let her back into the yard later and watched carefully as she examined the barrier, poking her nose in and around the chairs to look for a way under or around them. She finally gave up and walked away, but minutes later was observed digging in a new spot.

Just in case she makes it out again, I put her collar on. It has her rabies tag and a tag with her name and our phone number. In addition, both of our dogs are microchipped.

Gone but not forgotten

Meet Calvin and Lucille Banks, who owned and operated the Goobertown Grocery for more than 15 years before retiring a year or two ago and moving away.

They lived in the back of the store, which was sold and razed within the last year. I’ll let you know when I find out what will replace it.

Their biggest seller was a line of custom made Goobertown t-shirts and bumper stickers. We’re given Goobertown shirts to several friends and relatives, including a former coach for the Indianapolis Colts.

Here’s good friend Lauri Schillings celebrating Goobertown in style.

Hund Stalag #1

Dora has a troubling habit of digging in the back yard.

I’ve resigned myself to the realization that I have lots of holes to fill before I can mow this spring. I’m willing to indulge her as long as she doesn’t dig too deep and get into the septic finger system or try to tunnel out under the chain link fence.

As you have already guessed, the latter happened yesterday.

We wanted to bring the dogs in while we ate dinner last night, but couldn’t find Dora. We called for her out the back door and I went into the back yard and scanned the area for her unsuccessfully. We looked in all of her favorite hiding places inside the house.

Then Maria spied her looking at Jack through the back fence. She was outside the fence, where she has absolutely no business. We dashed outside through the garage and called her and she raced into Maria’s arms from the back of the property.

We had a couple of very upsetting lost dog separations with Pete back in Indiana so I get panicked thinking about Jack or Dora running away.

I walked the perimeter of the fence and found the spot on the west side of the yard where she had dug a Dora-size tunnel under the wire. We have a pile of bricks left over from the construction of the house, so I loaded a bunch of them into the wheelbarrow and Maria and I used them to close off the tunnel and its approaches. I left the wheelbarrow propped up against the outside of the fence for good measure.

When we next let her into the yard, she went straight to the tunnel site and examined it, then walked away with apparent disappointment.

We’ve won this round, but I keep thinking about the movie The Great Escape and imagining that we’re the commandants of Hund Stalag #1, just waiting for the next breakout attempt.

Random stuff

It’s time for a blogpost of random thoughts, since I’m too lazy to crank out an essay on any particular subject.

• Lunching yesterday at Five Guys Burgers & Fries, I noticed as guy in a Nike golf jacket wearing a duck call on a lanyard around his neck. He didn’t look like a duck hunter, certainly not like the Duck Commander guys, but there it was.
• I don’t like the Travelocity Gnome. He reminds me of someone I know and dislike.
• I’m starting to have thoughts about riding to Daytona Beach Bike Week in March. Now that I have a hardwired plug for my heated electric clothing, I’m way better prepared for a chilly 1,000-mile ride than I was last year.
• I did 2.21 miles in 40 minutes on the treadmill this morning and find I have to work harder to get my heart rate up. Conversely, my recovery time has improved dramatically.
• I finally got down to our downtown office building to replace missing the electrical outlet cover plate in the lobby of one of the two businesses. It went walkabout last year when exterminators treated the place for termites.
• Tomorrow’s to-do list includes a haircut, getting a new LLC endorsement stamp made to reflect the new name of our bank, and making an appointment with a CPA to see how the LLC affects our tax preparation this year.
• Waking up with an adorable blue merle Aussie in bed between us is a wonderful thing. Dora likes it too, as she luxuriates in the folds of the down comforter.
• I can’t find a new book to like on my Amazon Kindle. Maybe tonight…

Federal holidays

Today’s observance of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, reminded me that Federal holidays are an annoying inconvenience once you’re retired.

They represent an interruption in mail and banking services. Fortunately, recent weather-related school closures have caused some of the area schools to use MLK Day as a snow makeup day, so Maria is able to continue her fun work as a substitute teacher.

I say fun work because she seems to enjoy it more than any job she’s had since I’ve known her. She comes home every day with charming and funny anecdotes about the kids she encounters.

The only downside is that she gets exposed to cold germs. Fortunately, she has not passed any cold or flu bugs to me.

I was going through some photos on my hard drive this morning and came across this reminder of how much I hate Indiana winters and don’t care to experience another.

Mount Rushmore, July 1990

This was my last long ride on my 1981 BMW K100RS – my first serious sport touring motorcycle.

I was attending the 1990 BMW Motorcycle Owners of America International Rally at Rapid City, S.D. and was on a day ride to Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse sculpture with Tim and Linda Balough. This was back when parking was free at Mount Rushmore.

After the rally, we rode down to Breckenridge, Colo. for a week with other Indianapolis BMW Club friends before riding home to Indianapolis.

I retired the R100RS the following June when I bought a 1991 K100RS. I ended up selling the R-bike with about 80,000 miles on the odometer, to a young fire fighter who pretty much rode it to death. It was a beautiful machine and it changed my life. It broke my heart to see how badly it had been abused when I noticed it outside the service department at Revard BMW Motorcycles ten years later.

Something I miss about winter

Our homes are warmer in winter and cooler in summer, thanks in part to double-pane windows, but those of us who live in colder latitudes gave up something exquisitely beautiful in exchange for comfort.

Frost on our windows.

I’d forgotten how beautiful it could be until I saw it in a Russian woman’s photos of her kids and her farm. I poked around on Google to find this example.

I remember being absolutely enchanted by frosty designs like this on the windows of my first childhood home at 609 E. Franklin St., in Delphi, Ind.

I think my sons may have experienced it when we all lived in Indianapolis in an older home on North College Avenue.

I’m sure I haven’t seen it since and I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it until now.

Isle Royale revisited

Here are two more images from that 1976 backpacking trip to Isle Royale National Park.

The top photo is of lunch at the foot of the Mount Ojibway fire tower. The bottom picture is a mixed review of the freeze-dried dinner at our Moskey Basin campsite. I think it was chicken a la king, but I can’t be sure. Sean liked it more than Steve did, quite obviously. That’s my Frostline kit tent in the background.

One of my favorite photos and memories

This is one of my favorite photos of my sons Sean (on the left) and Steve.

I shot it at sunrise on a late June morning in 1976 on a backpacking vacation to Isle Royale National Park.

Isle Royale is the largest island in Lake Superior and is probably America’s least-visited national park because it’s only accessible by seaplane and ferry and is open from April 15 through Nov. 1. There are no roads or motor vehicles on the island and the last time I checked it has no year-round residents, other than wildlife which includes wolves and moose.

My first wife Diane, who is the mother of my sons, and I visited Isle Royale the previous summer and wanted to share the experience with the boys. We flew out from Houghton, Mich. to Rock Harbor, a small cluster of buildings on the east end of the island and took the ferry back.

We all slept in a big ripstop nylon tent that I sewed a few years earlier, working with a kit from Frostline, a Colorado company that made sew-it-yourself kits for tents, sleeping bags, down-filled jackets, 60/40 mountain parkas and other stuff. And we survived for a week on freeze-dried camping food as we hiked from one campground to another along Moskey Basin on the east end of the island.

We had encounters with moose and other wildlife and did a day hike up to a fire tower on Mount Ojibway along the rocky backbone of the island. The tower was manned in those days, but now it just houses a bunch of weather recording apparatus, the National Park Service having decided it is impractical to try to fight a forest fire in such a remote location and, therefore, pointless to maintain a fire watch in the island’s two towers.

Slim pickings

It was slim pickings when the wraps came off of the Jan. 16 Amazon Vine Program offerings this afternoon.

No refrigerators, no printers, no vacuum cleaners. The biggest items were a couple of tabletop gas grills that didn’t interest me.

So I opted to have them send me a $25 stand-up cover for my Paperwhite Kindle and a $40 folding knife. Already-published reviews suggest the Kindle cover is a piece of junk, but I’ll give it a fair evaluation, as I will with the knife.

The day begins

I’m enjoying my morning mocha cappuccino in my reusable Starbucks go-cup before we motor in to town for a meeting with a financial consultant.

The aim is to protect our assets and improve our cash flow.

More later.