Guitar Neck Fabrication

This is the first attempt at the neck fabrication for the guitar. At this point it is still going very well. This is a piece of Honduran mahogany just before being reduced to scrap cut at 15 degrees with a dozuki and then planed to match. I'll be doing this part again next week though, as I learned an important lesson in paying attention, later in the day.

Date: 4 February 2007
Mileage for the week: 70.45
February total: 25.02
On the Ipod: Jackson Browne, Late for the Sky

We're Home

We're all back home, including me -- I'll be staying here (with my folks) tonight as well. We all sat around and watched the Bears lose, ate like pigs.

The Remains of the Day

Read the book referenced in the title of this post. It's charming. My mother recommended it.

I saw my mother this morning. They're treating her now for diabetes, developed as a result of steroid use. Atheletes with race induced asthma should pay very close attention. Albuterol is a steroid, so is prednisone,
cortisone and a variety of treatments for emphysema. You'll recognize these. If you're young and you have trouble breathing because you're racing a bike -- tell your MD he's an ass -- and that it's normal to be out of breath after humping your tushy up whatever race. You don't need his steroids to win. Steroid use. WTF? My mother is just a mother.

My mother is good and somewhat happy. I hope they let her come home soon. I may have to insist on it.

I have driven a car recently, I admit it. My first since Christmas. The trials of the last few days have left me needing to move around a bit better. It's hard to haul the elders around on your bike. My father believes he can drive and -- "I'll stop by and take you dad" -- is the absolutely correct response.

I made chili today for tomorrow's game. It is the food of the gods. I went to my folks to make it -- and I worked on the guitar. I was trying to make enough progress to show to my son tomorrow, but no. Not today. I took pictures of the guitar, and tried to mobile blog them from my phone. They haven't shown up. Maybe tomorrow.

It's late. I am old and tired now. I have only the remains of the day to look at. I sure appreciate the folks that have taken the time to let me know they are thinking of me. I am glad to know that you care. I am touched.

Let's hope tomorrow is better. Go Bears.

Gosh.

I rode around the corner a few blocks from my parent's house and there was bla fire engine in sight down the street. I knew instantly that something was wrong my father. He's been at home alone a bit this week, and it's been a busy week for all of us, and I knew. My father. He's been feeling really good, and talking about playing golf. I pulled up and there were firefighters there in triage. The Chief had fallen down.

It's hard for me to imagine the world I live in today.

When I was young, it was a different place. Jets hurled through the sky a supersonic speeds and the sonic booms rallied the glassware to leap to the floor. My life was dominated by a Naval hero and a military haircut. During the 60's it was the Packers and the Dodgers, and sandlot broken window Sandy Koufax baseball in the driveway with the bat pointed at the neighbor's house. It was stingrays in the mud hole that we called a park and riding out to the swamps in the afternoon. There were fallout shelters and we hid under our desks at the sound of a bell to fend off nuclear war. I actually broke the frame on my ugly bike. My sister was a h i p p y and my brother was always in trouble. I remember once I put out the window of a house well past Home Run distance in a glorious and fright filled batting moment. I had to work for hours to replace that window. I had no idea the bay was polluted, and about ten other things. My father was there, building, making, working, fixing, being. Guiding me.

My neighbor Mrs. Miller used to keep the balls in a box in the backyard and not give them to us -- we used to sneak in and steal them back when she went grocery shopping. Me and Vic the Sushi Man. Tonight, it was as if everyone knew something was wrong with John. The Chief. My father. The neighbor stopped by and the Chief didn't answer the door. Folks called from everywhere and the phone was busy. I heard that and raced across town on my bike. My sister in-law showed up right after I got there. Mrs Miller came over.

The Chief had fallen, he hit his head, and got a bit banged up. My father was a strong man. He was a sailor. He led us in a proud way toward a better life, a life. A good life. Through the valley of the shadow of evil. It was harsh at times, but there were many character building experiences. It wasn't necessarily always right -- but I am sure he thought it was.

The Chief grew up in a different era altogether. He was born in 1923. There were planes, cars, blimps. Buzz bombs, radio, radar, Tommy Dorsey, Amelia Earhardt, Charles Lindbergh and war came later. When my mother was 20, in 1941, she started smoking. She smoked for forty-five years. She will die of emphysema. She doesn't want the doctors to investigate much, she doesn't want to be resuscitated. She's in a different hospital, across town. She's scared now. Me too. We are all going to die in seperate places.

The world I live in today has cell phones, and mobile blogging, and this. And spontaneous world wide communications. As Jean Baudrillard said in 1948 -- it is -- An Ecstasy of Communication. It's a world my father can't fathom, and I can barely keep up with. It's extended the life of America by ten or fifteen years, but it hasn't lessened the pain of watching your parents fade. They were so strong.

I guess I need to be strong now.

Phone Hell 2

Phone Hell

Date: 31 January 2007
Mileage for the last bit of the month: 45.25
January total: 371.46
Max 24.2
On the Ipod: Cowboy Junkies, 200 More Miles

Alaska Vacation -- Round Island

You can get a permit that allows you to take, harass, or kill marine mammals, if you have a good enough reason. If you have a good enough reason -- you can take a walrus. And if you're big enough. But where?

I don't want to take any walrus, I just want to take their picture. This is not like taking a picture of a petroglyph (or the honeycombs behind the petroglyphs) in Carrizo Plain National Moneymint, where you get threatened with ticketing and or arrest if you suggest taking pictures of petroglyph rock (If I even see you here with a camera ..."), this is a walrus we're talking about. This is not some light love making.

This is serious. Under the Marine Mammal Protection Act, it is illegal to take, harrass or kill a marine mammal, specifically whales, dolphins, seals, polar bears and walrus. If you take a camera and approach a walrus close enough to get a good picture without a $5000 lens, you probably need a permit. If he feels harassed, you may need to be able to run. I don't think the Marine Mammal Protection Act actually says any thing about that. Quote: "You must be able to run like a ... 'If I even see you here with a camera,' says the walrus"

Go figure, aren't I a marine mammal, in need of protection? Doesn't the walrus need a permit to hassle me. No -- I have to take my chances.

Flight to Dillinger -- $1000
Fly to somewhere -- I am not sure where -- a point on Homer spit or a beach -- $400
Boat to Round Island $400
Hotels meals etc. -- $600
One week Camping, permits, fees, food, film, and ... did I mention food? ... $500

12 day trip to Round Island to photograph walrus -- $2900

Holy shit, Batman

Any one care to join me?

About your Car ...

It went like this. I got caught at the light, and there was a young guy trackstanding for an eternity, then sped away. I, of course can barely stand, so trackstanding seems impossible. I did catch him and comment on his talents and then blow by him into traffic. I was wailing throught the ring street at the end of Townsend onto John Henry at speed, and this woman in front of me saw a parking spot and stopped. I hit the brakes and watched ... sliding ... an eternity passed. I was picking out how I was going to (safely) land on the back of her car, when she looked up and hit the gas. I think I was less than an inch from her bumber when the car lunged forward. Raise one for the driver. She actually gave up her parking spot to save me.

But don't raise one for this driver.

Ok so this Cool for the Bikers

Photo © Jill Homer 2007.

Jill the uber winter cyclist in Juneau, Alaska, who is currently preparing for the Susitna 100 (A 100 mile winter bike race in Alaska, and did I mention Winter?) and blogging about it, was nominated for a Bloggy award in the Best Sports Blog category. I think this is pretty impressive. Even to get nominated for that. A young woman who rides her bike in the snow and writes about it. No super bowl, no fantasy football, just a girl woman on a bike with a camera and a pen.

If you like winter, your bike, or women, or great achievements, then please go and vote for her. If that doesn't work for you -- then go read her blog and see if you like that.

Today, she rode a Big Century. Amen to that.

Date: 27 January 2007
Mileage for the week: 66.03
January total: 326.21
On the Ipod: David Grisman and Tony Rice: Tone Poems

Soon-dubu Chigae

Ok, some soups are unique colorful and photogenic. When I was in Korea I learned some things about food. First, when you buy stuff like cereal, look on the back of the box to see if there's a picture of a woman dumping it into a washing machine or cleaning a drain with it or any other obvious signs that its not food.

If it looks good, smells good, or has a lot of garlic, live octopi, chili, or kimchi, it's probably good to eat. Three or four or five foods became my staple diet there, with surprises occasionally. I love kimchi. There was a vendor right near my place there that made kimchee mandu in a tall stack of steamer baskets, which became a regular afternoon snack between classes. Another street vender would sell a garbage bag filled with puffed corn for about a buck. This was frequently breakfast. In the city I was in, bibimbop was the regional specialty. I preferred bibimbap hot (Dulsot) but one of my roommates there would rather it be cold.

My favorite breakfast of all time is the Adobo chile at the Horseman's Haven in Santa Fe, NM -- but I'll need to talk about Korea now, and that later. Second, of course was soon-dubu chigae, which is a Korean Soup described with other common Korean soups here:

Korean stews (chigae) generally have two things in common, they're hot and spicy. The most common stews, which are all served with rice, are kimchi chigae, dwen-jang chigae, soon-dubu chigae and boo-dae chigae. All of these stews contain enough hot pepper to burn the hairs in your nostrils. On a frigid winter day, nothing will warm you up more than a hot bowl of boo-dae chigae (my preference). Kimchi chigae is loaded with kimchi, small pieces of pork and various vegetables. Dwen-jang chigae is a soy bean paste based soup filled with vegetables and clams. If you like tofu, you'll love soon-dubu chigae. Vegetables, clams and an egg are added to this tofu bonanza. Boo-dae chigae originated from the Korean War. After the American soldiers finished eating, many times they had a little food remaining that they threw away. The Koreans were very poor at that time and they would go around collecting that thrown away food and put it in a big pot and presto, the birth of boo-dae chigae. It includes hot dogs slices, ham, glutinous rice, and other vegetables. Ramen noodles are usually thrown in as well.

Soon-dubu chigae is a hot spicy meal. It's a power packed food and tasty. In my notebooks from Korea a recipe exists, along with how to make pickled garlic, which everyone should experience one in their life. I need to find a good recipe for Soon-dubu Chigae. Although it is a vegetable soup, it does contain Anchovy Sauce, meaning it's not really vegetarian.

The with clams part of the recipes, may rely on regional differences in Korea. Places nearer the sea include more seafood in there diet ... as students and teachers in Korea, we really didn't have all that much money, so certain foods were luxurious.

Photo from The Tofu House in San Francisco.

Why do People take Pictures of their Feet?

Because of the cool and stealthy new cycling shoes that arrived in the mail today from Lake Cycling.

Sunday Morning Social Ride

I'll be leading a ride from the Bean Street Cafe in San Mateo, on B street between Third and Fourth, Sunday at 10 AM, to the San Mateo-Hayward bridge on the Bay Front Trail. It's a social there and back ride -- so come and enjoy it. I think Bean Street is going buy the coffee.

It's about 10 miles round trip to the bridge. If you don't want to go that far, turn around and go back. Maybe we can all eat shrimp tacos at Pancho Villa afterwards. Maybe we will get back so soon we'll have to have bagels with cream cheese, onions, and smoked salmon at the cafe.

Note: I just changed the time from 8 to 10 AM.

ooooh!

Stuff came in boxes today. I bet there was a time in the not too distant past when a Luthier had to spend quite a bit of time aquiring and drying appropriate woods for his craft.

The internet speeds that process up a bit. So does fedex.

The picture above shows the better parts of the skinny end of a guitar. Clockwise from the top left: wicker trunk, ebony fingerboard, Honduran mahogany neck stock, adjustable truss rod, more Honduran mahogany, racoon, remote, mahogany heel block, gold tuning machines, zebrawood head veneer.

That means that there's work to do. Before that, however, I am going to try out Fritz' Grandmother's miso soup recipe. But first I have to find some Niboshi Dashi. Or whatever that was that his grandmother had on the wall in her kitchen. There's a bonus venison onion soup recipe in the comments.

Soup Recipe

Really -- I am looking for Cioppino, Minestrone, Italian Wedding Soup, Clam Chowder, Gumbo, Tortilla soup and the other great soups of the world to round out my list. I'll be happy to test out your soup recipes.

And I am listening to the Cream -- Live at Winterland. Crossroads. The man on the street in my building is Robert Johnson. I was thinking of making a CD for him. He's never actually heard Robert Johnson. I can't imagine what that's like.

I was too young to see the Cream at Winterland on March 10, 1968 -- but I did see The Who there and many great shows. Rumor Myth has it that Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil for his musical talent at the Crossroads. That's powerful juju. I would recommend turning it up -- A lot.

I believe I am sinking down. Make soup outta that. Go through the list of great musicians that went down the road with Robert Johnson:

Eric Clapton and Cream -- Crossroads and a variety of other songs
The Cowboy Junkies -- Me and the Devil
Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett with Duane Allman -- Come on in my Kitchen
The Rolling Stones -- Love in Vain
Ramblin on my Mind -- John Mayall and the BluesBreakers
SweetHome Chicago -- The Blues Brothers

and you got great soup. Maybe the Blues Brothers are a stretch -- but what the heck. I shouldn't have any trouble making a great Robert Johnson CD.

Yeah, I followed her to the station with a suitcase in my hand
Well, it's hard to tell, it's hard to tell, but all true love's in vain
When the train come in the station I looked her in the eye
Well, the train come in the station I looked her in the eye
Well, I felt so sad and lonesome that I could not help but cry
When the train left the station, it had two lights on behind
Well, the blue light was my baby and the red light was my mind
All my love's in vain

Pick of the Week®

Pick of the week goes to Jill. For this.

Guitar Project

I have a long and serious relationship with wood. Being a Sculptor -- I learned early on to appreciate its virtues. I have pieces of ebony and walnut and purpleheart and bloodwood lying around in my house, my studio, in my sculpture. In my living room is a table I built from Port Orford cedar and zebrawood. I walked in to my local hardwood supplier (I bet you all have one) and talked to a young guy for a while about Honduran mahogany. I bought a single small piece of rosewood.

The old man walked in while I was paying my bill, and said ... "How you been?" I said -- "I am good, how about you? ." He remembered me from God knows when. 1997. He hasn't aged a day. I bought a lot of wood from him when I was trying to get through grad school.

When I buy a piece of wood I tap on it, test it, check its worthyness. I listen to it. I look at it -- Is it gorgeous or just crap. I want to know that it's a sweet piece.

Over the last few days I have bought a variety of stuff. Tuning machines. Honduran mahogany stock for necks, the rosewood mentioned above, an already cut for frets fingerboard in the Martin length, and ebony, fretwire, a zebrawood plate for the tuning pegs. Ivory. A readymade tensioner for an acoustic guitar. A spokeshave. I never got to tap on any of it. I'll have to check it out when it gets here.

I am thinking -- a 1964 gibson acoustic might be cheaper ...

I said to that kid -- that piece is flatsawn. I need a quartersawn piece, do you have one. No. Thanks. Bye. Gotta go.

Smile

It's one of the Smiths. Smith Factors.