Another day, another Russian spam. And one of those things tried to join my forum. The spampig’s handle (ManninBlackk) got over 9000 Google hits. Time for a name change, dipshite; we know you.
Edited to add:
Spam posts can be hilarious if you are easily amused.
I enjoyed the article and thanks recompense posting such valuable news broadcast seeing that all of us to imply to, I bus station it both matchless and educational and I throw to conclude it as floor as I can.
Lordy, yes — I throw to conclude it as floor as I can too.
Not enough good sleep to make a meaningful post. I will some time soon, I hope. Both of the above.
This postcard turned up in a bad place when I reshuffled a shipload of junk so I could get up the stairs (the upstairs door was ajar, a criminal offense when the temperature outside hovers around 10F).
I believe the Standard sign (far left) belongs to my grandfather’s station (ETA: Yes, it is). Harry G. Ahlers, 1904-1984. I wish these old cards had dates on them.
Downtown Sturgeon Bay, ca. 1940
The signs have changed, but most of the buildings haven’t.
HILARITY! I wanted to test the statement that the GodMode folder — name.{ED7BA470-8E54-465E-825C-99712043E01C} — would crash 64-bit Vista. Eh. Only Exploder goes down, and it is possible to stop the panic as long as a stable file manager is open to the folder’s location.
I created a folder named Sauron.{ED7BA470-8E54-465E-825C-99712043E01C} on Raven’s desktop, in Free Commander, while logged on as Raven. (Raven is one of my Admin level personae.) It caused a repeating Explorer crash that kept the screen flickering until I was able to delete it — in Free Commander, the only file manager still standing LOL. It also crashed Exploder when placed in C root.
On mere user matera’s desktop, when I am logged in as that user, it is harmless. The deadly effect requires administrator privileges and/or a normal desktop. As matera, I use an alternative shell, so Explorer is not the turtle upon which the world sits.
My newest drums have a lot to tell me about how sensitive and moody drums can be. Raven Laughs is the crankiest thing in the house after me. We both wake up in the morning slack and grumpy. That drum…now it’s the temperature. Give it a blast of heat and it sings, but at 45-50 degrees Fahrenheit (“room temperature” in my house most of the winter) it goes flabby. In summer, it will probably have fainting fits because of humidity. It’s something I’ll just have to live with, at least if I want to learn bodhran style. Gotta make a tipper yet. 🙂
Raven Laughs -- frontbottomside-detail
Note the double edge binding of the head. From a video by Don Shulz (found on YouTube) I learned the trick of going once around and then running the main binding through the edge lacing rather than the holes in the head. It gives strength. After the disastrous first attempt to head this drum, I decided to go it one better. Once around, winding rather than in-out; then when that is fitted to the frame, another lace straight through around it. The second lacing anchors the main binding.
On the bottom edge I used a strong synthetic cord that is probably intended for macrame jewelry. The holes it goes through are lined with eyelets.
The small drum that I finished the day after is also very sensitive. I can tune it lower in a few seconds by blowing on it. This morning, it was almost as depressed as RL (that’s a pun, BTW), but when I warmed it by rubbing with hands and cheeks it cheered up. I think I could have made it tighter, but then it could get way too high-pitched and possibly be in danger of self-destructing under the right (wrong) circumstances.
small shaman drum
This handy 8″ drum is no thunder-maker, but it can hold its own. The frame is of the same steel hoop, cardboard, layered paper, and fabric construction. I made it more quickly and simply, however. Less layers, less fussing — it doesn’t show much anyway. You can see the duct tape on the top edge. LOL
…at plans. And drum makers who make plans. But this time I think I’ve got it right. It took several weeks to make the frame, from steel hoops, cardboard, and layers of paper and fabric. Tedious waits for glue, paint and protective coatings to dry. Sanding, re-coating, measuring, drilling. Then twice I tried to head it. The first time, I chose a piece of rawhide that was too thin on one side. It tore. Twice. Scratch that one. The second time, I didn’t get the bindings tight enough. The head was disgustingly flobby. Discombobulate again.
The third, and by far the best, attempt to head this drum looks like a — heh-heh — resounding success. It’s hanging in the kitchen drying. Now and then I hear a twing as something adjusts. A bit scary, those sounds, but it’s not threatening to break; merely tight enough to sound off at the slightest stimulus. A proper drum attitude.
I felt very confident as I started. All went well. Previous practice paid off. The binding technique that I’ve worked out through these three phases is solid and effective. I can visualize, a little at a time, any process; building or taking things apart in my mind before getting down on the physical components. Then when I actually lay hands on, small improvements come to mind. It helps that I can always gauge the amount of lacing to prepare. Running out of something that takes a few hours to soak would not be a Good Thing. 🙂
So I’m happy. I’m rubbing my hands together (with home-made lotion, they’re rough and sore) and gloating over my success. I’m planning more drums using built-up frames. Would be nice if I could make or buy nice wood frames, but for now I’ll make do with what I have.
A little more interesting start than some. My onlybegottendaughter reappeared (e-mail changes can have a dire effect on communications) on the morning of Dec. 31. Did she just e-mail me? No-o-o-ooo, she sent me a friendy from Facebluck. Hokay, must be some reason I got back in there a coupla moons ago. I had to reset my password to log in this time (I swear I had it right, but Facefook wouldn’t take it yadda yadda) but I was going to do it no matter how many captchas I had to squint through. It takes something to drag me into Facefook.
Then I find out that she has managed to find her father, whom I haven’t seen in nemmine how many years. Danged if she ain’t as bull-headed as me.
‘Twas the day after Christmas, and I wanted to do something. I did two somethings.
This four-inch drum is made from a section of PVC sewer pipe. It has a bright tone, loud for its size.
The striker is not only proportional to the drum, it is ideally suited to bring out the best sound from it. A drum responds differently according to how, where, and with what it is struck. Size, weight, and consistency of the striking head mean a lot.
I had to have a rain-stick. The upcoming series of drum circles wouldn’t be the same without one. No spare cash to blow since I used all my mad-money for rawhide, but my house is full of…stuff. Not content with traditional methods of construction with my non-traditional materials, I brainstormed. The result: Instead of drilling or poking holes in a tube, I inserted tortured wires. I have a big spool of aluminum welding wire that I bought at a garage sale for a song. It is an indispensible source of stiff yet bendable wire for hundreds of uses.
It works. It takes a few yards, and it is probably best to form it in several sections, stuffing each in separately. The coils should hold themselves in place by tension against the sides.
I blew it again. The binding wasn’t tight enough. Since there was no way to adjust it, I’ve taken it apart again. Yes, again. This was the second time I’ve mis-headed that frame. Maybe the third will be lucky.
Oh well. Dinner was good. Ham, baked potatoes, and squash.
BTW, I have always loathed that hideous pseudo-Christmas carol, The Little Drummer Boy. This was a bad season. I heard it more times than I want to count. Nausea.
The promised bad weather held off. I went to work with lots of summer sausage, cheese, and crackers and a jar of my favorite wine-substitute: cinnamon hibiscus tea mixed with orange juice. It was my co-worker’s birthday, an extra excuse to party. We had one visitor to help eat the munchies. I know, doesn’t sound like a day’s work, but there are much more…interesting days.
Back at home, I’ve watched the second half of The return of the King while soaking a few yards of rawhide lacing. Now the drumhead is soaking. It’s thin, doesn’t need to soak as long. The drum I promised myself over a month ago will be finished tonight.
Here’s the one said I’d show, a while back. Little Grandmother, she’s called. Grandmother Drum
Sitting proudly next to the dishes I had just washed 😀
unfinished
Here’s the fabric-covered coffee can ready to have holes punched for the cord loops. The loops are pulled together wih a tighening cord after the rawhide binding is done — a hybrid technique derived from my study of djembe construction. I used hemp cord loops on my first coffeecan drum, but it didn’t need the extra tightening.
My antique icepick lies near it, and the sleek, black frame that I built out of laminated paper and cardboard and two steel hoops. That one will receive its head when I’m done here.
After watching The Lord of the Rings twice in the past week, I’m feeling a bit epicked out. I think I’m ready to get back to writing.
I h8 waking up too early to be up and too late to get back to sleep. However, having a big bowl of homemade stew to re-induce sleepiness is a nice way to unstart the day. Stew!
NOM NOM NOM
