THEN -

Sleeping better than ever, if you call Post-Apocalypse Mad Max Harvey
and Georgia Incursions sleeping well.Brrrrrrr.

Off in the impossibly clear morning on a provisioning run:The shearing
west gales abated, for a moment.

Trader Joe’s - O’boom plenteous

Randy’s Sandwich – Jaws II available (six-man queue)

Bay Automotive – Monday slot for cooling system service

Grocery Cheaplet – no hog’s head of pickles, but cheesy deals rampant

Smart & Final – cannot afford the bulk Feta, but lb o’coffee is off a
dallah.

At Bay Auto there stands a magnificent ’58 Chevy Bel Aire station wagon,
Karen, the proprietress says that restored to stock they can be worth
fifty grand.This one looks cherry, but according to Karen – she and her
mate Pete have a number of vintage wheels their own selves – this one
isn’t museum restored.

Across the lot is Gomer Pyle’s grandfather’s 1950 pickup.Rolled down the
quarry, left out in the Wisconsin winter, used to haul hay outta Hays
City.Wasn’t far off.

It’s Leon Panetta’s.More accurately, it was Leon’s fathers.His father
let Leon drive it to high school and college.Leon gave it to /his/ son
to do the same.Now it’s in to Bay for some upkeep and when ready, Leon’s
/grandson/ will be driving it to Carmel High.

After the first salad of this not-so-new year, down the slackpole to The
Shop.

It’s Time.Time to glue up the Kren Kab.Gaaa!!

Monkey Glue.Clamp it twelve ways to everyways.Still not enough
clamping.You don’t even have to believe me.



Now, finesse the arched top.Specifically, sand/merge the joint edges.

Fine.Now, nail in the locking mechanism.This could be considered a
tactical blunder, as now the screwing of the lock actuation dingus
cannot be achieved.

Not impossible, just unlikely.

It had to be one or the other.Screw the dingus to the elevator bolt
without knowing how it’ll fit inside the locking mechanism, or the path
I took.

Harveywas fond of saying, “There’s always a way.”And mostly I ascribe to
this.

Brainstorm #1 – drill a through hole to allow screw driving.This might
work if I had drilled the hole in the right angular spot, but was 22.5
degrees off.

Sensing the laughter of the gods, postponed further mere mortal
flailings until after tonight’s Midnight Study Hall.

Meanwhile, there’s a hoot not only from the street but in the
street.It’s Congo AND Gnuggies!

As it that wasn’t fine enough, he’s looking for some stools, stools just
like the one before the desk.

About 19” high with a curved seat.The challenge is the leg joints to the
seat.

Are they angled tenons into blind mortisii, or is there a wanking solid
steel bracket with a lag screw halfway down the legs?

Google Street View has yet to penetrate catalog jpeg’s and so no peek
under the thing is possible.

And can I meet VivaSection’s <http://www.vivaterra.com/> price of $150 per?

Dunno.

What I do know is that fabricating angled tenon’s ought be in my skill set.

Sense a prototype in the offing, maybe a through mortise with a split
tenon wedge held…..

He buggers off and I unclamp the Kab, keen on testing out the fit
between it and the arched top.

The fit is …. Not GOOD!

Maybe I can pull it in with the pre-drilled dowel holes.

Maybe I can stop having bad dreams.

Send the Harvey Bleach.

SUMMERDAY –

Another clear, sterlingly blue dawn.Air like the first time you ever
noticed how clean and good it felt to draw breath.Bah!When will This
Good Weather End?

Second rike after a two-week hiatus recovering from an unanticipated
back injury goes well enough – three cats hallo’ed, one dog on leash,
one (not enough) crows harried.

Trying to ignore the stoopid brilliant blue skies, minding my own
business when up to the castle portico stomps …. Someone.Something?Mace
to hand drop the draw-bridge.Hopefully not the Sheriff of Nottingham
here to dun me for not reporting for jury duty next week.It’s a long story.

No.

It’s The Professor with four 8 foot long 3/4 x 3” oak slats, needs them
to bolster his table project.Can I glue them together as a sort of beam
for either side and trim them to 2” wide?

Dense as I am, I know it’s a thin tissue of deceit, he only wants to get
into my growler of Pliny and this is his way of prying open the castle
gates.

Sure I can work his oak into the bolsters he needs.Swine, he knows that
growler needs tapping, been iced grace of The Browns since last week.

Once I understand his oak gluing needs we take the tram railway to the
North-facing promenade.

Pliny is cracked.

Pliny is quaffed.

Pliny is adored.

The gods smile, or at least, and best, ignore us.

We lament (but not so’s you’d notice) those of you who did not, this
day, look out over Monterey Bay with a tumbrel of Pliny to hand.Snaaakks
in for many moldy bread crusts.No whales sighted, no dolphins seen, some
jokes cracked.The electorate speculated upon.His losing bid on a dive
boat in a Gov’t surplus auction lamented.Will come another.And so shall he.

DAY –

Doors slam, shovels tossed into empty truck beds, chain saws.Has the
Beijing Council For Public Works declared Castle Slackton moot?

Happily, no.It’s the arborists working over the trees down the street at
Nice Biddie’s Place.Let us hope that the phone cable survives their pruning.

With nothing but the lies I tell myself, I have not conversation save
that with The Professor’s four oak slats.Two of them are nearly plumb,
so I pare them down to nearly the mandated 2” width across the table
saw, that finger mangler but not today, then glue and nail them
together.The planer takes them to the mandate.

The other two are slightly windy andmuch bowed.Instead of ripping them
to near-2”, lam then together then bust out the Festool God’s Own Saw
and the saw guide rails.A cut along one edge builds a straight reference
for the planer.Wouldn’t know how you’d do it otherwise.The Festool cost
what?

HEY!Here’s the client and his beams ready to go.He goes and I go to lunch.

Apres – Kabinet Kren.

That issue about how to screw the elevator bolt to the inside back of
the lock actuation dingus?Solved thanks to the Midnight Study Hall.I
didn’t even have to think, the solution just bubbled up from
somewhere.The answer was simple – simply pop the T-nut out of the front
frame, orient the flange of the elevator bolt in the radial manner
desired (whilst registering this position with the T-nut), then put in
the screws through the previously drilled holes in the flange.

Triple checking the position of the brass rod penetration of the upper
Kab Kase, drill a slightly oversized hole through the frame and down
into the left door.

Full Up Dry Fit Test Results:

Arched Top To Kabinet Fit is BAD!

Articulation Of Locking Mechanism Is GOOD!

The arched top and kab out of alignment in all 27 dimensions and the 29
we cannot sense.Throw the Cloak of Inevitability over the thing reducing
the inhomogenaeity horror down to yaw, pitch, hue, bunion and overpriced
footwear.No really, it’ll come together and square/plumb up as I have
confidence in the dowel holes ready for dowels and glue.

And so they do, although there is a Non-Krenov Approved 1 – 2 mm
overbite/slackjaw between the lower Kab and the upper arched top pretty
much about on every corner.Specially crafted cawls were necessary fit to
the angled curving arched top to clamp it to the kabinet kase.

Yes.Suave.

Kase up gluing, test out the shelf fit.

Fit Is FUBAR!

I measured three times, I wrote the measurements down, I looked at the
measurements written down, I checked the measurements again.They’re 2 cm
too short.

Back to the Ply Rack for rework – do them both over again.At least I
know how.

Rip out the ply, notch for the back legs, cut the front trim, fab out
the under-shelf bolsters, thrill to the nail gun shooting in random
directions, glue and clamp on the front trim edge.

Amid storm arrives Congo with a case of Lag, what a Dick.He agrees to
buy the Kren Kab for my asking price, which was One Million Dollars.

He has it on him.

I’m Rich, I’m fabulously wealthy!I’m comfortably well off!

And then it sinks in: a mil just isn’t That Much Anymore.

He buggers off leaving most of the Lag in the fridge and me to the empty
shell that is my existence.

Yet off the coast there glimmers a bright shiny hope – Pennington of the
South threatens a visit, possibly a beer safari to the North.Hope is a
cruel mistress.

SLACKDAY –

KrenKab this day will be ready for the finish coats, so think I.There is
some final ….. how you say in English? …. ramming around trying to sand
the 1-2 mm difference between the arched top and the kase toward flush,
but we will not speak of that now.Tote the box out into the sunshine on
the Slack Deck and the craters, gouges, scrapes, pot-holes, stippling
and overall geechyness of the show surfaces suddenly become
revealed.Maimment I could not see in the dankness of The Shop.

More ramming around.

Just then, there’s a dark, hulking presence in the Slackrage.Not the IRS
you’d expect to find.No.Friend Slackington from The South bearing cases
of Lagunitas.

When last here, he was facing a floor resurfacing job at his manse, this
done, the next disaster avoidance is replumb the entire
plantation.Likely this will be performed by high-paid experts and he’ll
do the wall repairs.Mostly.

Huzzah!Here’s The Professor just in time for beer scrutiny.We’re out on
the Slack Deck when we hear a Barry White bass talking with Slackington.

It’s “John” who say’s he was here two years ago.WTF?The number of people
who have been in The Shop is a number smaller than my bank account.I
don’t remember him but he’s brought me some rolls of tape and solid,
level-headed ethos you only get from folks what had to make their own
way in the world.His hands – scared, callused and broken nails mark him
a tradesman and indeed he say’s he’s a stone mason from Montana, his
sister, allegedly, lives here in PG.

The brew is flowing freely as is the brofulness and when reached
sufficient climax, The Professor decamps familyward and “John” wanders
away as suddenly as he arrived.

We close The Shop quickly lest he return to adjourn up the lava tube to
the Observatory.

Lagunitas is Unconfined.

BEERVENTUREDAY –

The Plan: Russian River Brewing Company and Lagunitas Brewing Company.

Ambitious?Certainly.Attainable?Indubitably.

I and the truck would have been happy to drive but Slackington stepped
up to the plate and swung hard with the Prius Mileage Batted In at 46.So
it was and we were off in the brilliant morning sunshine.

20 miles north I remembered that I hadn’t turned off the range burner
after the morning eggs.

An hour later we were back where we’d U-turned and past the Point Of
Some Discern.

As it is Sunday, traffic is relatively light, although always perilous
on the 101 in the Stretch Of Death between Prunedale and where the
course flattens and straightens out just south of Gilroy.There’s
somebody dead for every mile of pavement.

As our targets were Petaluma and Santa Rosa, two highway options
presented themselves:

 1. the intuitively obvious stay at home and have the Pliny and Lag
    delivered along with the pizza and South Korean prosties
 2. Okay, okay, THREE options – take the 880 through Oakland and over
    the Richmond Bridge to meet the 101 north of San Francisco
 3. 101 all the way (mostly) except for that bit with 43 lights getting
    through to The Bridge.

Since I was the Designated Wife this trip – by virtue of my having to
U-turn it back to check that burner (it actually was OFF) - I got to
make the decisions and 101 Golden Gate it was.

All would have been lovely had it not been for that lost hour which
embroiled us in a crawl for 20 Minutes Which Felt Like 20 Hours in San
Mateo to get to the two lanes out of four closed for the five car fuck-up.

Jog west at SFO, then north on 280 which, given the right shim-sham puts
us on 19th Avenue North.Even this far out of The City Proper, where 100
years ago there was nothing but a few isolated roadhouses and some
scattered dairy farms, The Magic of The Most Magic City in America still
enchants.I promise to lay off the Capital Letters.

After 37 lights, it’s rip-rap through The Golden Gate Park, a few more
lights, the Douglas MacArthur Tunnel and onto the greatest American Bridge.

Slackington drives like a Man Possessed, like we were in a Lamborghini,
like we were late for a beer.But we were.

Wife decides that we’ll bust north to Santa Rosa, ‘do’ The Russian River
Brewing Company <http://russianriverbrewing.com/>, then backtrack to
Petaluma, find a flop – of which there are three within staggering
distance of the Lagunitas Brewery – and then settle into a good, solid
drunk.

Slackington has studied up on Santa Rosa
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Rosa,_California>, knows just where
to off the 101.

Settlement here in the county seat of Sonoma dates from the Mexican land
grant period, hence the name.The freeway lances through the town like an
overhead railway and the western aspect of what once was a remote
farming supply center is now the shopping destination for the
surrounding vintners, dope farmers and other rich types.There’s the old
town square around which are upscale bistro’s and no Agway feed stores.

We find a Prius Park just near the hippie recharging station.It’s summer
here, well, actually it’s Spring here as it’s only 80 degrees, it can
hit the three digits in summer.

There’s three digits of people trying for the same thing as we: get an
elbow on the bar and bend an elbow.

Oddly, there are a dozen empty tables.I accost the waif/hostess who with
gesture and posture views me as something more offensive than
extra-terrestrial radioactive dung.Yet I extract a device that will
‘buzz’ when a table for two is available.“Could be an hour and a half.”

Yet The Gods ignored us, which I consider good fortune as They had
inclination to neither jack us or slack us, for as we were standing only
one-deep at the bar the couple seated paid their tab and gave us their
stools.

We Have Arrived.

Yes, I remember that I promised to lay off the caps.I lied.

Bedlam Behind The Bar, even so, we attract the attention of the
professionals who soon deliver us from sobriety.

My Scorecard:

  * Aud Blonde – 4.5% happiness – served chilled and it’s a roasty,
    nutty, piquant refresher and good start
  * Segal Select – at 5.7% EtoH a bit more challenging, except that it
    had all the flavor of licking a (clean) bedpost
  * Hop To It – about the same fun-fill as the Blonde and even less
    savor, maybe it was the ham stromboli (a NJ 7.9) which ruined my
    palate ….

And now Ladies and Gentlemen, the act you’ve all been waiting for, the
One, The Only ….

  * Pliny the Elder – sewage run through moldy oak pipes and drained via
    the orange peel heap.

This can’t be right.

My taster must be off.Even so, I get a growler to go and so we go.But
not until Slackington makes me taste a ‘sour beer.’Never heard of the
like before – it’s a cross between waking up dead and sucking bilge from
the sauerkraut tanker.He say’s it’s an acquired taste.Don’t wait up.

South the 20-some miles to Petaluma
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petaluma,_California>, the name deriving
from the aboriginal Miwok phrase for butt-crack.Okay, okay, not
really.Look it up.

We don’t know where we’re going, mostly, but use The Force and
behold!There it is: the Lagunitas Brewing Company <http://lagunitas.com/>.

200 yards yonder is a Motel 6.

Harveyfigures to dicker down to $60, but doesn’t get the slack.I offer
my AX to the one-armed desk clark who wants to scan my driver’s
license.Ixnay.Can he record the information?Nope.He consults the Manager.

I’ve seen this before.In some parts of the Bukowski
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Bukowski> LA the cops require
motel owners to log their patrons in hopes of having their
investigations into the lower forms of vice made simpler.

I do not want to make things simple.But Slackington does and tosses his
bone fides onto the counter.This hurdle cleared we don’t even GET to jaw
them down, the rate, for this must still be the off season, is a ‘mere’
$54 with our Senior Harmless Citizen’s Doddering Discount.

No fridge in the flop, though, so the growler goes into the sink with ice.

To Cases:The Lagunitas Brewery is hard by the handy railroad tracks amid
an industrial and office park.There’s no view, there’s little ambiance,
but there is a punishing heat and a packed dirt-paved lot rumbling with
happy people, their children and their dogs.

It’s a good start.

We find the bar in an adjacent shed and are lucky enough to nab two
stools, if you can call sweltering next the constant traffic of the
pissoir lucky.

My Scorecard, and it could be tinged by whatever was causing me to drip
sweat and revile my fellow Lagian not (not) to mention my ordering
possibly the most idiotic item on the appetizers menu – the cheese plate
– which was 7 particles of congealed milk served next to 4 crumbs of
Oliver Twistian toast:

IPA – Crisp, savory and fulfilling.The marketing blather isn’t marketing
blather.It Speaks

Doppelsticks – no, I’m not making this up.Wheaty peaty even though it
isn’t a wheat beer, but it might have been filtered through a raccoon
bladder.

I’m not doing so good.

Is it the oppressive heat?No one else is pouring sweat?

Is the crowd?Truly I am unaccustomed to be amid throngs of lumpy,
sad-looking women hanged with too-little contemporary drapery all
engrossed in their iPHone but I shouldn’t be oppressed by their escorts
which seem to be unvaryingly the set of hang-dog let-off-the-leash just
this once emasculated high school football heros who are now installing
gutters, administering middle schools or/and hawking insurance for to
make (nearly) that Lexus lease payment.

I’m not much fun for Slackington …. But then again, I am Da Wife.

Things get no better back to the flop where I collapse on my bed and
feel I need triage.We both claim not to have slept well.I’m listening to
him snore when I’m awake; he say’s my midnight aria’s were profound when
he was awake.

So much for our pilgrimage.

BETTERDAY –

It’s about 3 AM when we get up, shower and make away.Well, it was light,
but just barely.We just barely found a Starbucks, a drake and his mate
parked on the sidewalk announced that The Gods still visit us, so we had
that going for us.

Since I’m Da Wife, I mandate this Plan: boodle out toward the coast,
ramble south, cross The Golden Gate and this is the important part, take
Coast 1 through the new-this-month tunnel just south of Pacifica and
find the Half Moon Bay Brewing Company.

Even though the morning mist is still rising like dreams from the early
day, traffic amid the town of Petaluma is strict and urgent. You could
drop Petaluma into southern Ohio or eastern Kentucky and no one would
think it amiss.

We clear the clamor of town and for the next 45 minutes are nearly alone
coursing toward Bodega Bay and later to the tiny village of Tomales Bay
along as handsome a stretch of farm lined two-lane as ever you could want.

As Da Wife, I mandate a detour at the village of Tomales Bay out to
Dillon Beach.Not so much the campground on the shore, but the view from
the hills above it.Here is the northern tip of the Reyes Peninsula and
the surface manifestation of the San Andreas Fault where it leaves the
land and submerges.

Our coffee lasts all the way to Point Reyes Station where a convenience
stop is necessary.

Conveniently, here’s the Western Saloon.

Time for a few Breakfast Beers.

Chatted up the palsied matron who admitted that though it’s too early to
open; but since the doors were open, the saloon must be.

The Lagunitas here was _better_ than at the brewery.Or at least I was.

Hard place to leave, but miles to go before we’re faced.

If you haven’t made the drive between Point Reyes Station (once there
was a narrow gauge railroad
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_Pacific_Coast_Railroad> that ran
from Sausalito to San Rafael to Olema then north to the Russian River to
take out logs) south on Coast 1 you’re cheating yourself.

No cheats here and as a reward, between Stinson Beach and Mill Valley,
were we rejoin the 101, we stopped for a quick Racer 5 at The Pelican
<http://www.pelicaninn.com/>.

Another regret as we could have stayed there all day long.Road trips are
like that.

Speed Racer Slackington manfully bullies the thousand switchbacks up and
down to Mill Valley and to the freeway.It’s the Big Sur Norte for a few
digestible kilometers, high above the slanting sun straking across the
ripples far below, accessible to the swells from The Magic City, and to
us too.

We can’t figure the toll on the south side of the Golden Gate.The signs
read “NO CASH” and so we have the plastic ready.It wasn’t required.Maybe
Sunday is Free Day and so we pay nothing.If having our souls restored by
simply crossing the Golden Gate is nothing ….

Stop for petrol somewhere about Noriega Street, I’m used to a fill-up
going to $90.The tab, and this is the first fuel of the trip: $32.

Onward.Southward.Hork west from the 280 to the 1 through Pacifica and
toward one of the highlights of the voyage, at least for me.Slackington,
old hand that he is at monumental civil engineering projects is less
thrilled than I at the Just Opened This Month $439M Devil’s Slide
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil%27s_Slide_%28California%29>
Diversion.Where the road used to follow the terrain out to the sheer
cliffs over the surf, it now verges more south over two new bridges and
into a pair (one each way) of 4,200 foot long, and if I may be euphoric,
beautiful tunnels.

Over all too soon.As a young sprog in the ‘60’s during those cherished
(except for the Marlboro smoke) roadtrips you couldn’t but marvel at the
highway building, the Eisenhower-era Interstate System then in full
flush of construction.Today, such significant changes to the terra are rare.

As a mark of our ebullience, we pull into the Half Moon Bay Brewery
<http://www.hmbbrewingco.com/>.Choice seats are available at the bar,
the patio is vacant.Our wants are great.Our helpmeet is efficient and in
the time Slackington and I shovel down the crispy fries, the onion rings
and two plates of raw oysters (I don’t know what he had …. and those
Washington State beach wrack boogers were the best I’ve had in three
years) the bar and the outdoor patio had filled.This a Monday.Good.

More good – I volunteer to drive.Challenge Accepted!

There’s some small acquaintance with the non-mechanical nature of
certain control functions which are confusing for cavemen.This seen to,
can report that the Prius has excellent visibility, albeit from a
position low-down to the road; I like the digital displays and the
control functions just under the thumb on the steering wheel.

The stretch of Highway 1 south between Half Moon Beach and Santa Cruz is
in the main over low bench, meaning once ocean-lapped and now an
upraised skirt cut by arroyo’s, the route as close to the shore as its
designers hoped would mean a median between surf proximity and not
having to replace too many culverts a year.

Just south of Pescadero there’s a hand-lettered sign just off the berm
in the iceplant across a yellow parchment in blue scrawl: Brewworks.

Better have a look-Screech.Swerve.

New just since February, Highway 1 Brewing Company
<http://www.highway1brewing.com/> is a venture that this twenty
something husband and wife team have staked their all on so that the
thirsty traveler – having no succor between Santa Cruz and Half Moon
Bay, save the excellent roadhouse of Duarti’s in Pescadero proper –
ought slake their raging dryness here and enjoy an almost too perfect
view of the surf crashing against the mighty California Coast.

We did what we could to aid them.The location is beyond roadtrip
perfect.Completely unexpected.And we hope that in time, the quality of
the beer will improve.

This roadtrip has been, perhaps all too successful, in part due to
serendipitous finds such as this, and it is all too quickly that we
motor into Santa Cruz and find ourselves in hand of a hearty ale at the
Santa Cruz Brewing Company <http://www.scmbrew.com/>.

Ambiance is less important to the Main Factors here than crafting good
quality ale – we look out upon an industrial parking log, yet young
families find this pavement suitable for their witless charges who must
often, too often, be run after and returned, as two-year-olds do.

Not sure who drove the leg from Santa Cruz to PG, probably it was me and
had no issue with the rush-hour slog knowing that it would clear once we
reached Capitola.

And reaching down from the sky was the glorious gloom all too scantly
seen this so-called winter which cloaked us to Monterey.Wieners
purchased and deck grilling ensued.

The Dogs Smiled Upon Us This Day.