Friend Ray has some serious Photoshop skills.
Back when I was doing a dozen or so 10K races per year I developed a good sense of my pace as I ran. I could typically tell how fast I was going within 15 seconds per mile. Three of us trained together, running established routes almost every day and tracking our times. Bob was the fastest by a wide margin while Don and I were more evenly matched. We ran together until the last mile and then it was cutthroat, with more than occasional shenanigans to get even a small advantage. We'd check our watches at the end and got to the point where we could pretty accurately predict our pace and times.
I clearly have lost all sense of my pace.
While doing some cleaning/sorting recently I came across a treasure, one of my maternal grandfather's business invoices. During the Depression he fed his family (four kids) with a variety of services listed on the invoice header, a list that included "kalsomining."
Know what that is?
I didn't either, so this morning I did some research online and learned it's essentially applying a whitewash. Also spelled calcimine, it's calcium carbonate (chalk) that comes in a powder, got mixed with water, and then applied to walls as a cheap alternative to paint.
"Too proud to kalsomine, too poor to paint."
They used it on plaster in old homes because it soaks into the surface and, when it dries, hardens to an impermeable layer. Unfortunately, it also flakes off over time which means another layer of kalsomine needs to be applied. It was also used in dairy and chicken barns because it helped keep dust and dirt down, and in chicken coops it helped control mites. The farmer had to reapply it annually.
I looked, and you can buy kalsomining brushes, but apparently not the kalsomine. My impression is that artists use the brushes for a particular effect.
Several sites give instructions for how to remove kalsomine from plaster ceilings so you can paint over it without the flaking that will happen if you don't. It does NOT sound like a fun job.
I finished that Ross Thomas book, "Briarpatch." It was good, but the ending left me dissatisfied. He didn't wrap things up as thoroughly as I expected, but maybe he wanted me to do more thinking than I'm inclined to do with recreational reading.
This morning I downloaded "Unorthodox: the Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots." It's nonfiction and I chose it because I want to learn more about Hasidic Judaism. What I know of it is scary.
We've been watching the Leah Remini series on the Church of Scientology which, as it turns out, isn't just a cult, it's abusive and perhaps criminal. What I know of the Hasidim is very similar. In fact, there have been some recent court cases in NY that have resulted in prison time for sect leaders.
We're having Itzhak for dinner tomorrow night. I cut off his ribs by going down either side of the spine. I think Pam's going to sear one of those 6" sections of his back - they have lots of meat on them - and then braise it. This is all an experiment, so we're not expecting Mmmmmm right off the bat.
If I had a "H.A.M." t-shirt printed up, with
"Hammy and Proud" underneath it, would people ask me what that meant?
I have a t-shirt with numbers in circles stacked from top to bottom: 1,5,3,6,2,4. Some people have asked and over the years I've owned it maybe a half dozen have correctly identified the significance of that sequence - the firing order of a straight six engine.
I have another shirt with an amusing graphic of a T-Rex chasing a guy with the words, "Exercise; some motivation required." People comment on it.
I might have a Hammy shirt made up. It's cheap enough on some of the custom t-shirt sites, and maybe it will start a movement!
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