Roomba Rhumba

The last few days I have been engaged in a genuine dance of love. I know what you’re thinking, even If it sounds romantic, it must have something to do with robots right? Well I guess I am so thin-skinned that you can see right into my small and dehydrated grayish CPU because you are right.

Yes I have been doing the Roomba Rhumba, which since this is one of those self-propelled robotic vacuums, it must mean my techno ‘jig’ is the direct opposite of ‘dirty dancing’. Though not perfect by any means (here is a formal review), I am genuinely impressed with these fun and flat little dust suckers. They are only about 4 inches tall and the width of a normal beater-bar (as opposed to a biker bar) vac head, so they can go anywhere – EVEN completely under couches, tables, and recliners.

While these devices are literally like having a housekeeper with an extra set of hands around, at best this little ‘micro-maid’ is still a bit mentally challenged. So if you cannot stand the random roaming of a bump n’ grind ‘robo-mop’ running into chair legs, reversing course slightly, and then doing it again – DON’T get one of these bots. But particularly if you have hardwood or tile floors, they are pretty amazing at doing a very respectable job at sucking up crumbs and devouring dust bunnies.

The rechargeable battery runs for about an hour on plush carpet and nearly twice that long on hard floors. Unless you have a mansion, the beast can clean 2 to 3 rooms on a single charge and get this, be programmed to clean floors then recharge itself when needed. It came with a remote control too but, other than to chase your pets, I think if you are going to ‘guide’ a vacuum, why not grab the REAL upright plug-in and help the Roomba suck-it-up faster? Maybe I should invent an all-purpose robot that cleans literally ANYTHING in and around the toilets. Now that is what the world REALLY needs … I’m thinking of calling it the “CAN-DOO BOT”

Fermentation is in Bad Taste

My house really stinks lately. Ordinarily I would tell you that it is not my fault, but this time I have to take most of the blame. No I did not run through the yard after a deer migration, or bloat up on a double bean burrito. Actually the problem around here lately is purely a matter of first-degree felonious fermentation.

Recently with the garage sale acquisition of a rather large variety of beer making buckets, pots, and bottling paraphernalia, my wife and I whipped up not only a batch of brew but some sarsaparilla too. The problem of course is that each recipe fills the house with its own distinctive scent. While the sarsaparilla smells sweet and ‘rooty’, right out of the vat, the ale permeates the air with the odor of ‘damp earth’ and malt balls without the chocolaty goodness of candy varietal.

Though I am not a fan of beer in the least, I’ll line up for a chilly sarsaparilla over a ball of ice cream anytime. The ‘rilla’ likes a warmer final resting place so the bottles are banished to the upstairs bathroom to ferment. The beer likes it cooler so its potent grainy fragrance gets bounced to the basement bathroom. Sadly, I am quickly running out of bathrooms to stink up on my own.

If you don’t find that a ‘gas’ then how about the fact that today I also discovered a DEAD mouse on yet another level of the house. I don’t mean to get ‘CARRION-ED ’ AWAY, but what in the heck is going on in this stink-hole? Between my blog, a rotting Mickey, and the literally BILLIONS of yeast molecules ‘out-gassing’ around here, I feel like I’m living inside a BLIMP instead of a public dump. Oh well, fermentation I’m told, should temper bitterness. I sure hope so, because after smelling and stewing in my own juices this week, I am starting to get a REALLY bad taste in my mouth!

Quality Time Walk

Today I went for a long walk with my wife. It was very enjoyable to take in some ‘quality time’ together and the weather was absolutely perfect. In fact it was so perfect that a lot of OTHER people were out walking, biking, and enjoying the sunshine too. I am all for people getting healthy and their tax-free ‘natural’ tan-time, but selfishly I wish they would do it somewhere else CLOSER to the sun, or further away from my ‘center of the universe’.

I know you are thinking that I am either extraordinarily romantic or more appropriately - an unbelievably self-absorbed curmudgeon. Yes I know that I ‘Rag’ on people unfairly and often my opinions are ‘All Wet’. But in my defense, I DO accept that everyone has the right to enjoy the same good fortune as I, as long as they don’t TAX me figuratively or literally.

If everyone would just keep moving, I would be fine, but usually I am waiting for strollers, avoiding dog-walkers, leaning away from rollerbladers, or ducking Frisbees. My wife is often amused by my obvious distaste of the invasion of my personal space as well as my line of sight so she tortures me. She pointed behind me and said ”I think those people are ALMOST NAKED!”, then waited for my shocked reaction.

I half-heartedly started to turn to see the ‘imaginary display’ but then thought ‘ Forget it’ – it’s not worth the rotational effort required by my neck and spine. You see these days at best, especially in the Midwest, the odds are only about 1 in 10 that my eyes will avoid spontaneous BLEEDING if I actually look at UGLY ‘nekkid’ folks.

I mean usually these people will look LIKE ME and there is no way I’m unleashing this ‘dirty bomb’ Stigmata on innocent bystanders, much less go out of my way to stare them down! So after my wife had her laugh at my expense, I did try and relax a bit more and take in the beautiful scenery. Then a sweaty 300 pound speedo-clad bicyclist whizzed by us with inches to spare yelling “LEFT” and I jumped RIGHT with startled despair. Sympathetically with a sigh, my wife calmly handed me a Wet wipe, two Band-Aids and a white cane ... as far as our Quality Time goes - I guess love really IS BLIND!

Plane Crazy Building Blocks

Growing up, I was always HUNGRY to play with some type of building toy. Lincoln Logs, Legos, or Erector sets – I loved them all. There is nothing better than taking some basic component and turning it into a creative masterpiece. Unfortunately however, if my appetite for ‘Tinkering with toys’ was expressed in terms of fine food, my creations were more similar to FISHSTICKS than FILET MIGNON.

I also liked little toy cars and airplanes but luckily I was just as capable as all other kids at making ‘motor’ and ‘gear shifting sounds’ – my parents were so proud (relieved). Now what’s sad is, when you get older, for some reason society generally thinks it’s kind of weird if you’re still playing with building blocks and big boy toys especially if your best work still smells of ‘minced fish’.

I’m not concerned though because as goofy as I am, you never have to look too far in this world to find people that are even weirder. While playing and dreaming with my Lego Mindstorms as an adult, I would have never imagined building structures using REAL plane parts. Even my most expensive building component might be $50 or so for a motor or oddball gear, but imagine tens of thousands of dollars for a retired plane fuselage PLUS shipping and architectural conversion.

You would figure that if somebody was thinking ahead, the freight on these babies would be cheap since they could fly themselves to the job site? I believe the irony would be particularly sweet if I made a bunch of these plane bodies into an enormous mobile or better yet a pinwheel. Oh no on second thought I get motion sickness far too easily for that – I’d have a shopping cart full of ‘sick sacks’ with just a whisp of wind. I guess I had better stick with my Legos and fish stick boxes as building blocks. If I play my cards right, I’ll be ready for those Banana Boxes beside the supermarket trash bin any day now. Gee,I don't know why but I'm suddenly feeling HUNGRY for really BAD food - I guess I'm a little NUTS or maybe just PLANE crazy?!

Camping never lights my fire

Despite my name being closely associated with the term ‘Camping’, I have not done as much of that activity as you might think. More than most people I enjoy smelling like the burning hair off of Smokey the bear and going to the bathroom in the woods, but I am a bit lazy and camping can be a lot of work.

Now it really shouldn’t be that hard if I would really go out into the forest and try to ‘rough it’ like Bear Grylls or our local hobos. But like most city folks, camping for us involves packing half of life’s modern conveniences powered by propane, batteries, or sweat into a cramped car, and driving hours on end to have FUN. I have to store all of that stuff too so with sleeping bags, pads, back packs, and gear - the entire attic looks like a really lousy Army/Navy store.

I honestly don’t mind camping but most of the time camping doesn’t like me. I am not suited for an activity that by necessity ends at dusk and all the insects and animals silently surrounding me would like at least a little taste of my blood. Except for the obligatory hour of burning marshmallows and getting a face full of wood smoke around a campfire, most of the time everyone heads for the tents when the sun goes down. Of course that is just when I am getting my 2nd wind so I typically will wander off and get lost in the woods and have to fend for myself until morning.

You see what REALLY bugs me that I can only make fire with matches and lighters. My real life quest for fire has included a stainless spoon as a reflector, various friction methods, and even a pair of glasses to make a focal point from the sun; but in the end I always resort to matches or I will be left out in the cold.

Once back at our home, I got a ’bee in my bonnet’ that I needed to learn to ‘make fire’ which is not an easy task in icy 20 degree windy weather. Undaunted, I hacked a tree limb down and made a spindle, a bow with twine, and cut a flat branch to drill into. I tried to use dryer lint for a starter nest and I made a spark and ember but like my love of camping, other than a LOT of smoke, the hard work NEVER lit my fire. I drilled away for close to an hour until my wife glared at me disapprovingly and told me to ‘take those stinky smoldering sticks and get OUT OF THE HOUSE!’ Gee I told you I’m a lousy camper and it was REALLY cold outside.