James Bond, Elastic Man and Life Hacks

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!  Hoooo!  Hoooo!  Hoooo!  Ahhh!!

Every morning for 30 days a hearty howl could be heard originating from the upstairs bathroom at our house followed by a peal of laughter coming from a separate room.   It was October 2013 and I was life experimenting again.  What sort of experimenting?  Well, not what you're thinking pervert.  Ha ha!  I kid. I kid.

It was an an effort to increase my mental toughness. I used Google to see if there were any simple "life hacks" that would do this.  That's when I came across Bond, James Bond - the "James Bond Shower" more specifically.  Simply put the James Bond Shower is a cold shower.   And I took one.  For thirty days.  Straight.

Every morning I groggily stepped into the bathroom, mentally steeling myself for the icy wake up call.  The theory is that a bit of discomfort is good for us and if you can get your mind around some small discomfort you will be more likely to be able to handle a larger hardship.  Practitioners of the technique also claim research reveals many physical benefits as well such as fat burning weight loss, immunity boost, increase in testosterone, better hair and skin and an increase in your mood which lasts throughout the day.

I eventually worked out a technique.   After lamenting the fact I couldn't turn the hot faucet on, I'd gingerly step into the tub, using my best Elastic Man style to move my right hand into the stream and slowly up my arm.  After that, turn and left arm, all while standing at the far end of the tub.  Extending one foot under and back out then repeat the same.  Quickly torso in and out of the water to help build up lather.  After being all soaped up it was time to "man up".   Same thoughts every time: "All right.  Ready?  Here we go!" and into the icy blast.   Sudden intake of breath and a frantic rush to "GET THE SOAP OFF!"  Turn water off, towel on and out.   And then the big grin.

I only(!) did it for 30 days, so I can't attest to the weight loss, immunity boost, testosterone or epidermal benefits but my mood was always brightened when I stepped out of the shower.  Maybe it was because the shower was over but when I looked in the mirror I always had a goofy grin on my face and the same thought "I can't believe I just did that.".  It was definitely invigorating. And it made Laura laugh hearing my shrieks.  "Why didn't you try this in July when the water isn't so cold?", she asked.  I didn't think of it then.

I must admit I cheated once or twice, sticking my right arm in and calling it a day.  I just couldn't muster the mental fortitude.  My apologies to those who were in close contact with me following those occasions.

Would I recommend it?  Sure, why not.  Like I said, it definitely increased my mood and it was a little tweak that changed up life for a bit.  Did it make me mentally stronger?  I don't know about that.

Enough time has passed where I think I'll try it again tomorrow morning.  It can't be that bad.  Can it?

All right.  Ready?  Here we go!

Wrangling the Horse

This may not be an interesting post to anyone but myself and a few people from The Fedora Lounge but with my growing interests in hats I have been looking for another project to try out.   I've been  learning about the types of felt, the process of making, blocking, pouncing, sewing and creasing them and their anatomy and styles (Homburgs, Bowlers, Fedoras, Pork Pies, Boaters, Panamas, etc).  I am not ready to invest in a whole whack of expensive hat-making equipment so I was looking for an inexpensive way I could get my hands busy with something to wear at the end of the project.

There is a thread at the Lounge called "The Conversion Corral" where people take good quality cowboy hats (which can be had for a song) and turn them into fedoras (which can be expensive to find good quality hats in large sizes - 7 1/2 for me).   So I found this brand new 7X Western hat on ebay selling for 70% off.  Sweet!  I chose it not only for it's good price and quality felt but also because it has a fedora-like bow on it already so I wouldn't have to deal with switching it out.  I also liked it because it was made by the Canadian hat maker Biltmore who "were" reputed to produce one of the finest production hats lately (as opposed to custom hat makers).  "Were" because they sold the name and another company down in Texas and are now producing hats down there that are not quite the same quality.

They were in business since 1917 but closed their Guelph factory.
Anyway, here's the process:

I started out with this silverbelly coloured hat and ditched the horseshoe pin.

Took Laura's stitch ripper and removed the binding.  I wanted to keep it and sew it back on to retain the nice bound edge but I got overzealous and ended up putting the blade through the ribbon at two different places.

With a towel between the hat and iron, I ironed out the cowboy swoop to the brim.

I cut out a 3 inch guide made of cardboard and marked spots all around the brim.  Most of my hats brim's are around 2 1/2 to 2 3/4 inches but I went bigger to see how it goes.  You can always take more off but not put it back on.

This was the moment I was waiting for.  I wanted to see how it felt to cut felt.  The answer was - a bit nerve wracking.

I took off half an inch which left me with a jagged edge.

I sanded down the uneven spots with 320 grit sandpaper.  I stopped there just in case I wanted to cut the brim smaller but what I've read was hatmakers use up to 600 grit and some even higher.  Looks fine to me stopping at 320.

So with a bit of steam I deepened the front pinch and curled up the brim at the back.  I may put even more of a curl.  Cowboy hats have a lot more starch in their brims than dress fedoras so I may have to really work to get more curl.  Anyway here is the final product.

So whadaya think?  Another inexpensive and fun project finished in a day or two.  If you made it this far, thanks for reading. 

Tree Branch Hat Rack

The latest project finds me constructing a rack for my growing hat collection. You may have seen these before. Here's my take on it.

 I started off with a frame made of cedar fence planks.  I figured that would deter any moths from damaging the fine felt as moth damage is prevalent on many vintage lids for sale on ebay. 

Then I took a Dremel and sanded the ends of each of the branches/hat hooks.

On a trip to the hardware store I came across these strip lights for mounting under kitchen counters.  I stuck them to the back base of the cedar frame:

And created this contraption (on the left) to mount the hat rack:

Here it is with the back lighting turned on unmounted:

Here it is again with the back lighting and a front light source to see the branch detail:

And here is the final shot with the hats hung:

This was an easy and fun project that I completed within a few days.  Thanks for stopping by.

She Flies With Her Own Wings

Dostoyevsky wrote a novel called "The Idiot" which contains 

a character who is completely pure and good and if I recall 

correctly, it is said that he felt that writing a completely 

pure human and making it believable was one of the 

most difficult things he wrote throughout all his works.

I work best when given an idea to start from.  Steph, Porter's 

biggest fan, jokingly said to me, "When are you going to 

write a duet for us to sing?"  She had sung "Jackson" 

with us and "Fairytale of New York" too.  So, much later 

when I told her I had something but needed clarification

on what she had in mind, her added direction grew into two songs.

Here is the first one called "She Flies With Her Own Wings". 

It's supposed to be in the inspirational vein which can be 

tricky to write without coming across as corny. I 

hope I was able to not cross over that line. Porter 

tried it at practice about 3 times so it's still in 

a nebulous form. I managed to record the first time we played 

it and although it's really rough (you can hear the band 

fumbling around, trying to "feel" the song) I'm really happy

with it. 

Feb 20, 2013
 
When your best foot forward is the one in the grave 

and the fools all around you can't seem to behave
 
Things fall apart when you least expect 

and no one can see that you're trying your best

Ooooooh  ooooh oooooh  x 3

 
When there ain't enough hours just to get shit done 

and you don't have a minute set aside for some fun
 
When the walls close in and time's running out 

& you can't even manage to let out a shout

 
When it takes all your strength to keep the tears in 

and your first reaction is to jump out of your skin

Ooooooh oooh  ooooh x 3
 

She flies with her own wings x 3
 

Every situation there's is a chance to be had
To show your true self, and react good or bad
Every opportunity, a chance to reaffirm
Who you are inside and what you need to learn
 
So hold your head up and don't wear a frown,
just remember to get up one more time than you're knocked down.
 
She flies with her own wings

Straight into the sun

And ain't no one now can get her on the run

Ooooo ooooh oooooh

Higher and higher 

She Flies With Her Own Wings 

Summer Walks On

Is this thing on?  Wow, almost a whole year since my last post.  I probably lost the few readers I had.  Oh well, this was more about chronicling what I had going on in my life than attracting an audience.  If you are still with me, thanks for stopping by.

On to the topic of this post.  I was reading sootoday.com and came across a call for submissions in a writing contest.  I figured I'd try my hand at it and put together this entry.   It's basically all true but for one or two things.

Summer Walks On

"Hey man!  Don't I know you?"  He called to me out of the 
darkness as I crossed Spring St.  I turned to
 see a young man closing the gap between us with a gangsta strut, 
hands concealed inside the front of his black nylon hoodie's pocket .  He was tall and rangy with dull, 
close cropped hair.  His eyes were
 black with dilated pupils and the pock-marks on his face looked 
like the wet sand after a stiletto-heeled volley ball tournament.

"I don't think so.", I countered and turned away, trying to give 
the impression of finality.

"Yeah, man.  I do." he persisted.  

As he drew up beside me I immediately felt a tinge of alarm. 
 The greyhounds could feel it too as they 

began to close ranks beside me.  Eleven o'clock every night my 
elbows are nudged by my two needle 
nosed companions trying to rouse me from inertia as I sit at 
the computer. Their persistence usually wins
out and off we go. Summer nights are my favourite time to 
walk them.  The streets are quiet, the weather
is pleasant and there aren't many people around.  It's a good
 time to clear your head and let the stress of 
the day melt away - exactly the opposite of what was now
 transpiring in this film noir scene I walked into. 

"You must have me mixed up with someone else.", I said 
doing my best Bogart imitation.

"I'm leaving town tomorrow.   Yeah.  Takin' the bus outta
 here.  My brother's gonna set me 

up in T.O.  He's got a crew there and...."  He stopped 
abruptly, turned his face and fixed his stare on me 
as if I had farted in church.  I became uncomfortable 
and cast my eyes down toward the sidewalk. 

"Don't show weakness.  Meet his gaze." said a thought
 from within.  The silent seconds passed as I looked 
into his eyes.  I began to tense up, a shiver radiating 
out from my spine, ready for a physical confrontation 
of some sort.  Attack?  No.  Defend?  Not yet.  Retreat.  
We came up to Brock St. and I swung left with the 
hounds, turning off of Queen St. 

This surprised him and he said, "Hey!  Where you going?  
Don't you wanna walk with me?" 
   

"To be honest with you, I'm getting a bad vibe." I tried 
candor with him.  He took his hands out of his hoodie
 and it continued to sag under the weight of something 
heavy in the pocket pulling downward.

"Aw, c'mon man.  I got some guys after me.  They
 won't bother me if they see me with a big guy like you and
 two big dogs."  My wife likes to call me "soft-hearted" 
but the proper word is "sucker".

"Fine.  Let's go.", I capitulated and changed course.  
The young man immediately launched into a tirade about 
the government monitoring his every move and his 
attempts to confound them with me periodically interjecting 
yeahs and mm-hmms into his chattering delivery.  

A seagull screamed and his ears perked up.  "Did you hear
 that?  That bird is signaling a crew up on Great Northern
 Road, tellin' 'em where I am."

Once again he stopped talking suddenly and stared at me 
as we walked along.  "Say something." I thought nervously.  
"Yeah, well, you're safe here.  You don't have to worry 
about that.", was all I could come up with.   This mollified him 
and he began his next monologue about how much money 
he could make in illegal activities once he gets a crew.  
This exposition was not quite as long as Castro's speeches to the U.N.

As I was racking my brain, thinking about how to 
extricate myself from the situation, voices came to be heard ahead.  
Customers from Paul's Corner Pub were out on the
 stoop sharing a dart.  

"Gotta smoke?  Name's Tyson." was how my companion 
opened a conversation.  

"Once he gets a cigarette I'll leave him to finish it here.", I thought.  

"Hey Paul." I said to the proprietor who was out 
smoking with his patrons.  We were familiar from having crossed 
paths in the music scene years before. 

"Possible back-up if things go down." I told myself.

"Hi.", Paul returned as he exhaled some smoke.  One of the 
smokers offered my sidekick a 

boag.  As he pulled his hand out of his pullover pocket
 to receive the cigarette a 10-inch wooden spike fell and rattled across the pavement.  I shot a look at Paul like a drowning man 
reaching for a life preserver. 

"Looks like a cool place. Maybe I'll come in here." said
 the young man.  

"Time for my escape."  I hoped.

"Maybe you won't." said Paul, crossing his arms in front of
 the doorway.  My escape was foiled as a sad trombone 
played in my head.

I continued on with Tyson in tow, this time he went on about
 how great of a computer hacker he was. His now-expected
 sudden halt and piercing stare that stalled his discourse 
continued to keep me on my guard.  

We approached my street and I decided to pass it without 
any indication of me living there.  "Just got out of detox.  
I think it was a good decision.", he blurted out.  A moment 
of illumination shone on me like the bright red letters of an 
exit sign - my way out.  I picked up the pace and sailed past 
the Algonquin Hotel on a path that would lead us right past
 the Detox center.  

Suddenly Tyson stopped.  "You goin' that way?", he asked.

"Yup.  Heading home.", I answered.

Without another word he turned on his heels and was off 
into the night.  As soon as he was out of sight I quickly doubled
 back with the dogs, taking the back alley home.

The next night found me sitting at the computer, browsing 
the local police beat.  The dogs needed to be particularly 
persistent to pry my eyes away from what I was reading:

"City Police attended at a local establishment in the 1400
 block of Queen Street West after receiving a 911 call. 

It is alleged that a male attended at a local establishment  
and stabbed a male unknown to him several times with a 
wooden spike.

Officers from Patrol Services arrested Tyson McHutchinson 
with one count of Attempt Murder and one count of Assault
 with a Weapon.  He is being held for bail court."

And summer walks on.

Keep 'Er Between the Ditches

© 2011 Fort Creek Songs

I wrote this one last summer - a creatively fertile time for myself.  This stems from an e-mail our previous bass player sent out.  Derek didn't know the title of "As Luck Would Have Us" and called it "All the Things Between Us."  I told him it was a good song title and overnight wrote the previously posted song.  He seemed impressed (as was I!) and threw out another song title based on advice his grandfather gave him - "Keep It Between the Ditches".  Well, another day after that I wrote this partially based on the stories he was telling me as we drove out to a gig on St. Joe's Island.   Jay suggested to change "It" in the title to "Her". Carl was amazed I didn't rhyme "ditches" with "bitches" and Rachelle suggested a verse about a woman hence that extra verse in the middle.

Not only have I tied this post to the previous one it is also timely because we just played that gig again last weekend.  Derek was in town so Rachelle moved to fiddle, Carl was out of town, so Roger Marin sat in on pedal steel.  The gig was one of our best.

Anyway, back to this song.   It wasn't put to any music for a year.  I was coming up dry on the guitar so I switched to banjo and just today I came up with some chords and a melody.   It could use a bridge but I'll probably present it to Porter tomorrow night to see if they can figure one out..

Keep 'Er Between the Ditches

When the night is dark and your face is lit 
gently from below
by the instrument panel dashboard 
and the radio starts to go
 
With your hands on the wheel your mind goes back 
to thoughts of past mistakes
Family and friends, faces roll past,
Five words is all it takes.
 
Chorus:
"Keep 'er between the ditches"
My grandpa used to say
Even when life was 90 miles an hour
I wish I woulda listened.
 
I walked these roads from the bridge to the crossing, 
took me over an hour. 

The wind on my face, the dust in my hair, 
the country road flowers.

Chorus 

I loved a girl once, yes it's true 

but she fell in with some bitches

I couldn't steer her away from the edge

And keep her outta the ditches 

Chorus
 
As a young man I got me a car
and never looked back.
But now that I am an older man
the present sorely lacks

Chorus
 
Life's been tough but I'm still around.
I got these scars and stitches
We'll all be alright if we can just remember to
keep 'er between the ditches.

All The Things Between Us

Don't forget!  That is, remember: Porter is playing 

Second Stage on Saturday, July 21st, 2012 at 3:00pm.

Most of the time there isn't any rhyme or reason to 

the order I'm posting these but in this case this 

one goes along with the previous posted song. It 

goes over the same ground as "Another Lonely Night".

Not much to relate with this one. It has a traditional 

C&W style.  I dunno - "It's just a song."  

© 2011 Fort Creek Songs

All of the Things Between Us
 
Aug 27 '11
F
I measured all the things between us
Bb
They didn't amount to much
F
Some plates and books and furniture
C
Photographs and such
 
F
My ring stayed on the bedside table.
Bb
It must've slipped my mind.
Gm7
Splitting up what's left of us,
C
Takes a toll over time.
 
Chorus:
F                     Bb
All of the things between us
Gm                    C
Always getting in the way.
We couldn't see what we once saw
                             C7
Goodbye to shared days
 
I measured all the things between us
They added up to a lot
Inches, feet and miles grew
Now distance is all we've got.
 
You kept the truck and filled it up
With half of our old life
I kept trying to get used to
Calling you my "ex" wife
 
Chorus
 
I measured all the things between us
They didn't amount to much
a broken heart, a broken promise
Abandoned by your touch
 
Memories of better times.
Fade into the past
All those people talking
They can all go kiss my ass.