Coffee heat rising

Update: Cool vintage carving set

A little Web-cruising reveals that the carving set that I was lucky enough to find at last weekend’s estate sale must have been made before 1950.

After I cleaned the knife’s blade, a maker’s mark became visible:

Universal
L F & C

“L F & C” stands for Landers, Frary, & Clark, once a prominent manufacturer of household appliances and hardware. Founded in 1862, Landers, Frary, & Clark discontinued its cutlery division in 1950, giving us a terminus ad quem. So that would make the set at least 59 years old.

The handles are probably celluloid. Apparently the company made some products with Bakelite embellishments, but I can’t find any specific statement that L F & C used it for knife handles. On the other hand, this set, whose ferrule (the little ring at the top of the handle) is identical to the ones on mine, is said to have celluloid handles. On the third hand, the writer of this sales pitch incorrectly says the blade and fork tangs are made of stainless steel. They are not: as you can see at a glance, they’re wonderful carbon steel.

This knife enthusiast decribes celluloid as likely to decompose as it ages and remarks that one way to recognize celluloid is that the blade tends to rust. While there are a couple of rust spots on the estate-sale steel, they look like places where drops of water were accidentally left on it; the other pieces show no signs of rust. The blade is pitted in a couple of places along the top edge, so it could have shown some rust and been scoured clean. None of the handles show any sign of decomposition. Yet.

This guy is claiming a similar handle is “bone,” but like our seller who can’t tell the difference between carbon and stainless steel, his claim is dubious. A close look at the photo at this site shows straight, even stripes, very faint ivory-on-ivory, similar to those on the estate-sale treasure:

old knife
Click for a closer view

Another knife enthusiast mentions in passing that Landers, Frary, & Clark used bone on kitchen forks. IMHO, these lines are way too straight to be natural. When seen on end, at the tip of the set’s handles, the lines show an even herringbone grain. Anything’s possible, I suppose…but I’ll bet nothing that precise is natural.

We’re told that the way to distinguish celluloid from the more desirable Bakelite is by warming it under hot water and sniffing it. Bakelite supposedly smells like formaldehyde or an old-fashioned Bandaid, whereas celluose smells like vinegar or camphor. This test results in “none of the above.” It might have a slight Bandaid odor, but it’s so slight as to be most likely imaginary. Lucite, which was fashioned in colors including the ivory-like tint on our set, has no odor but is said to be lightweight; these handles are not. This outfit shows a close-up of a knife and steel set with celluloid handles, which also seems to show those straight lines.

So, I’m guessing the set’s handles are celluloid. Think I’ll take them out of the glass-fronted buffet where they’re now displayed, since corrosive outgassing would wreck the wooden shelves in there. And they’d probably better be used and enjoyed before they start to fall apart.

Free entertainment

The other evening La Bethulia and La Maya invited me to join them for dinner and then to do the rounds of First Friday, a sprawling monthly open house for galleries and studios in the downtown arts district. Interestingly, they invited a particularly charming friend along—let’s call him Bob ;-)—and we headed off for an Asian bistro on the west side of the Valley.

Since, contrary to the weather prediction, it wasn’t raining, we drove back into town for the large, unruly art walk. So many people were packed into downtown, we couldn’t find a place to park, so we went up to a midtown historic area called the Melrose district, which also houses a few galleries and antique stores. This area, running down for years, is beginning to gentrify as Phoenix’s answer to Seattle’s Capitol Hill. We managed to park close to a gallery right in the heart of Melrose, where we found some amazing found-art sculptures, including a nifty abstract agave, and one really very nice painting that both Bob and I were taken by.

From there we drifted across the street to an aging strip mall where a large drum circle had gathered. By the time we got there, after 9:00 p.m., they were going strong. Athletic young (and some not-so-young) belly dancers were joined by onlookers who frolicked in the street. At least one was teaching belly-dance moves to a few girl children, very entertaining.

It was a fun time, and—except for the modest cost of dinner—it didn’t lighten our wallets. First Fridays are free, though of course one is tempted to buy art, jewelry, and kitsch at the galleries.

One thing that’s clear: in retirement (or unemployment) a crucial trick is to find inexpensive or free entertainment. There’s a lot of it out there. Most of us think we have to pony up cash to be entertained. But that’s not always so.

Saturday morning we came across a club of bicyclists riding in groups through the pleasant desert and upscale neighborhoods of far north Scottsdale: an altogether free activity once you have the bike.

And the community colleges here are alive with inexpensive or outright free events, from the athletic to the theatric. Check out these possibilities:

Complementary admission days or evenings at city museums
High-school and community college athletic events
Meetup.com
Art walks through gallery or studio districts
Bicycling and hiking groups
Church- or synagogue-related activities
City Parks & Recreation programs

We don’t have to be job-free to develop an interest in frugal entertainment. What do you do for low-cost (preferably free!) fun?

Update: Soda ash frolic

The great swimming pool soda ash crisis has resolved itself. Along about 5:30 the evening before Bob the Wonderful Leslie’s Pool Guy was slated to show up, I realized that bumping the filter’s backwash valve every 30 minutes or hour had drained off a fair amount of diatomaceous earth, so I added another four pounds.

This stabilized the pressure at 15 psi, and by the tag end of dusk the last of the clouds in the water dissipated, having been kicked up when I broomed another couple of soda ash dunes that were resting on the bottom of the pool. Come dawn, the pressure was holding steady, so I planned to wait  until about 8:00 a.m. and then call off Bob the WLPG, who was supposed to surface between eight and noon.

But he showed up at 7:30.

His face wreathed with the “no one could invent the stuff I hear on this job” look, he heard the story through and then said, “You dumped twenty pounds of soda ash in the water?”

“Yes.”

“He told you to dump twenty pounds of soda ash in the water?”

“Yes.”

Eyeballs water. Inspects filter. Peers into water again.

“Well, what’s happened is the soda ash has finally dissolved. When you add much more than about two pounds, it coats the grids. But because it doesn’t last as long as DE, eventually it breaks down. That’s what’s happened.”

He said it should run just fine, and indeed it has. The water is now sterling clear once again (except for a bit of storm debris). The pH has risen back to the normal level. And the water no longer tastes strangely sour.

Couple hours later, the phone rings. It’s Biker Phil. He’s calling to apologize! (Can you believe that? I was astonished.) He said he wanted to hurry the process along and shouldn’t have advised me to apply the entire twenty pounds at once.

Personally, I’m skeptical that this is Phil’s doing. He struck me as a pretty smart guy who’s anxious to do his job right. Clearly Leslie’s needs to train its sales staff more carefully.

WhatEVer. Thank goodness the pool is now running right again, without having cost any more than the $50 for the soda ash. It sure is welcome in the muggy, hot last six weeks or so of summer!

Money happens!

SDXB, the master guru of Bumhood, says that when one has no visible means of support “money happens.” As one of those obsessives who craves to know enough is in the bank to cover a month’s expenses before the month begins, I’ve always felt skeptical about that. But as a practical matter, the man is right: like manna, money droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. It happens.

Couple days ago, the phone rings and there’s the chair of the Phoenix College chairperson. Will I substitute-teach for a faculty member who’s on her way out of town for a week?

Say what?

Subs for college classes?

Unheard of at the Great Desert University. No such thing as substitute teachers there. If you get called for jury duty, have a family emergency, or go to a conference, you have three choices: persuade a friend to show up and babysit your classes; post assignments online to keep the students busy for an hour or two each day and call it “distance learning”; or quietly cancel class.

Well, of course, I assumed that was what she had in mind: I’d stand in for this lady, who had arranged a cruise up Alaska’s Inland Passage long before she knew she’d get a teaching contract, and I’d do it as a lagniappe. What goes around comes around: you help someone out and one day they help you. And especially you help out chairs of department, by way of bowing and scraping.

So I couldn’t believe it when they told me they’d pay for this activity. Yes. With actual money. Not much: fifteen bucks an hour (heh…unless I misunderstood and she said “fifty”…not likely). All told it comes to $135: half a month’s groceries! In fact, the hourly rate for a regular adjunct is just about $50; in that case this represents a surprise $450.

Every little bit helps.

By the end of this semester, the net on the two courses I’m teaching will more than equal the gross pay for one course. Since I’m stashing every penny in savings, this means that the net on what I earn today will cover me next year if I can’t get three classes a semester.

It also means that if I don’t want to teach three-and-three, I could in theory choose to take three sections in one semester and two in the other, or teach three in spring and two in summer and then take the entire fall semester off!

Or, if they offered me three-and-three and I chose to accept them all, whatever little bits and pieces of cash come in this fall can be folded into next year’s budget, guaranteeing that I continue to live in the style to which I have every intention of remaining accustomed.

Money happens, and it underwrites retirement.

🙂

Estate-saling in a tropical storm

La Maya and a cousin of La Bethulia’s dropped by early this morning to pick me up on the way to an estate sale in the fancy part of a far-flung arm of the galaxy. The house was located in the elegant suburbs of far, far, far north Scottsdale.

Actually, it dwelt in a small patch of tract houses surrounded by large, expensive late-model houses on acre-plus lots. The tract itself consisted of modestly sized structures—maybe 1,600 to 2,000 square feet—on typical tiny tract lots, what we dinosaurs would call “patio homes” but today’s mammals think of as full-sized family houses. Its saving grace was that its tiny backyard looked out over a vast swath of undisturbed open space, giving it a view across only lightly raped Sonoran desert all the way to the mountains that ring the Valley. Very pretty. Maybe even pretty enough to justify the $600,000 asking price for three tiny bedrooms, a single living area dominated by a wall of ungainly niches built to house a hulking television and an array of large speakers, and not a single wall anywhere broad enough to hold a decent bookcase.

At any rate, the owner had a flair for decorating. We got there a little late to grab the nicest things, but we did see a nice array of lovely Asian pottery and ceramics, many beautiful clothes (once incredibly expensive but all, alas, in the smaller petite sizes), and some very nice artwork. But Gini, the sale proprietor, kept slipping new things onto the countertops as buyers cleared the merchandise, and so, stepping into the kitchen at just the right moment, I scored this nice old carving set:

The blades are carbon steel, a feature much coveted in the Aptosaurus family. M’hijito loves the carbon-steel knives I passed to him after SDXB nabbed them in a yard sale and gave them to me. Tho’ they’re softer than stainless and can’t be left to corrode in a puddle of water on the drainboard, they sharpen easily and take a beautiful edge.

See those little decorative collars at the top end of the handles? Those are marked “sterling.” There’s no maker’s mark on the blade or fork, but the sterling silver deco touch suggests they’re good pieces, like everything else the woman owned. I think the handles may be bone or possibly horn, not plastic. And the blade has been sharpened many times.* The pieces have a little corrosion, as if they were put away and forgotten at some point. I’ll bet the owner inherited it, or else acquired it early in her marriage and kept it all her adult life.

Meanwhile… The tail end of Hurricane Jimena has been drifting north across the Chihuahan and Sonoran deserts, and now it has ambled into the Valley. On the way home we passed through a sharp storm cell, the lightning copious and the rain ferocious. About the time we hit the freeway it really started to fire-hose. People were pulling off onto the shoulder, but La Maya managed to make it to an offramp several miles north of our neighborhood. This put us in the middle of an electrical storm. At one point a lightning bolt struck just a few yards from us. Its C-R-R-A-C-K and BOOM shook La Maya’s sturdy RAV-4 and all three of us yelped at once!

But we outran it a little south of Thunderbird, where the North Mountains blocked the blustery clouds’ passage long enough for us to run ahead of the rain and lightning until we reached our part of town. We were mighty glad to see the rain, and just as glad to get off the road and inside a building!

It caught up with us as I was running from the car to the front door. Just had time to power down and unplug the Mac (which I had stupidly left sleeping despite the encroaching storm) and heat some breakfast before the lightning threatened to fry the local power lines. Now the noise and heavy downpour have come and gone, and we have a lovely steady rain, temperatures in the balmiest of mid-seventies. Lovely!

Next week will be very busy. I’ve fallen behind in my plan to stockpile posts, and so today’s post is today’s post. But have many things to share and so will carve out as much time as I can find this weekend to write and schedule the next few days’ entries. If I miss a day or two, it’s not because I’ve forgotten you but because this fall’s expected flood of work is starting to rise.

* BTW, here’s an interesting article on sharpening fine blades, the most thorough explanation I’ve ever see this side of my Daddy’s workbench.

Storm image: FIR002, flagstaffotos.com.au Lightning strike, January 2007
Licensed under the GNU Free Documentation License
Please note that this image is not in the public domain and must be used and acknowledged accordingly.

On blogging and money

One of my favorite sites is Problogger, a blog on blogging. Alas, I’m guilty of not visiting often enough: I rarely do subscriptions because there’s too little time to keep up with them all, and when it comes to proactively visiting various sites, I get distracted easily. No doubt, though, if a person read the thing every day and blogged every day and studied other blogs carefully, before long the person would become expert at the blogging game and even make some money at it.

This morning, feeling a bit annoyed at Google AdSense, I dropped over to Problogger to see if Proprietor Darren Rowse had any clues to improve one’s relationship with that outfit. And lo! Up popped this article by Todd Fratzl, holding forth on two basic ideas: 1) that you should experiment with ad size and placement, and 2) that with AdSense, less is more.

The first is fairly self-evident: since no two blogs are the same and no two sets of readers are identical, it makes sense that placement, color, and frequency would yield different results for every individual blog. In fact, given  the Internet’s fluid nature, it’s also reasonable to expect that blog readership will change as blog content evolves. So it’s probably a good idea not only to try different sizes and placements for your blog’s advertising, but to test new patterns at regular intervals—say, at least once a year.

Personally, I was far more taken by the less-is-more concept. Much as I’d like to see FaM make a few shekels, I wasn’t happy about having to mothball its original WordPress design (White as Milk, the most exquisitely minimalist design WordPress.com offered) in favor of a three-column theme that lends itself to ad clutter. The idea of having only one or two ad blocks appeals…and it appeals a lot if Todd is right, that more readers will click on a site’s advertising if fewer ads are offered.

I’m certainly not getting rich off Funny about Money. Nor did I expect to: from what I can see,  PF bloggers whose sites earn enough to let them quit their day jobs are very techie, work at it six to eight hours a day at least five days a week, and are strong marketers. None of those applies to moi. In theory, it’s making a little more than other part-time bloggers claim to earn: as a paying hobby, it’s OK.

In reality, though, it’s not paying anything. None of the on-paper revenues that AdSense shows the site has earned have ever been paid, and I’m beginning to suspect I’ll never see a cent of that money.

AdSense is extremely frustrating to deal with. It has exactly zero customer support. Literally: you can not reach a human being. The entire operation is designed to frustrate attempts to get answers to questions beyond the “frequently asked.” The only live people you can reach are equally frustrated fellow customers, who gather at forums whose e-conversations are so diffuse you could spend days trying to find someone addressing your issue and still not get an answer that pertains to your circumstances.

And then we have its bizarre payment policies. No money is disgorged until you reach a certain threshold (just now, $100). After your site has accrued that much, you then have to wait upwards of two months for payment. Thus, when FaM became eligible for a payment in June, the payment was not scheduled to arrive at my mailbox until the end of August.

“Mailbox” is the operative word: the direct deposit function doesn’t work. Because there’s no human responsible for addressing customer problems, there’s no way to find out what the problem is or how to get AdSense to deposit funds directly to your account. The forums? Full of other people bitching that the direct deposit function doesn’t work.

So the August check didn’t arrive. In that case, your only option is to ask that Google cancel the check it allegedly has issued and cut a new check. Do that, and you delay payment another entire month! So, the soonest I can expect to see money earned last June is sometime near the end of September.

It’s not a huge rip, but it is a rip. What it means is that AdSense is piggybacking free ad space on the blogger’s work. Effectively, I’ve been providing AdSense free space for the past three months, and will continue to do so for at least another month. Multiply that by the 87 gerjillion bloggers who publish ads, and you get a clue how much Google profits by taking advantage of customers who can’t get in the front gate because there is no gate-keeper. The longer AdSense delays paying its ad publishers and the more publishers it stiff-arms, the more interest Google earns on ad revenues!

How much is Funny earning in never-paid revenues? Not much! Just now it’s generating a modest amount each month (or would be, if I could ever get paid). It’s paid for the server space. Otherwise, you could say it earns enough to buy a bag or two of groceries each month.

Considering that I would probably blog anyway, the 30 cents an hour that AdSense revenue boils down to amounts to a spoonful of gravy. However, I could do without the hassle, and I could do without the frustration entailed in dealing with a megalithic corporation that sets up impermeable barricades between its employees and the unwashed customers. I’m beginning to feel that despite the passive nature of AdSense—after all, once you’ve accomplished the initial set-up you don’t have to do much to earn that 30 cents an hour—it’s probably not worth the page clutter.

It appears to me that advertising may be the least of the effective ways to monetize a blog. Probably creating a product, such as an e-book or (depending on your blog’s topic) some physical object that’s related to your blog’s content, will generate more profit. Trent Hamm, for example, is selling a book spun off The Simple Dollar plus four downloadable e-books, also spin-offs. He has to split his print book’s $7.95 retail price with the publisher and the middlemen, but every cent of the $2.00 downloads goes direct to his bank account. Since his readership is huge, he likely sells a fair number of those. Trent runs plenty of ads, too; but it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he puts most of his effort into generating content and traffic.

Regular blogging by its nature generates a salable product: copy. If the site is focused on a specific topic—or even covers two or three topics regularly—the blogger should have no trouble coming up with at least one publishable book and a number of DIY e-books. But there again, it’s a matter of marketing: books don’t sell themselves any more than blogs do!

Postscript: Dave Taylor at Ask Dave Taylor provides an e-mail address for AdSense support and swears they respond promptly: adsense-support@google.com. In my experience, the answer bounced me right back to the page where the instructions didn’t work and no troubleshooting clue was anywhere to be found. Sending you straight back to reperform the function that doesn’t work without giving you some idea how to make it work is…well, circular is the kindest term I can think of.

BTW, if you haven’t come across Taylor’s site, you should pay a visit: he demystifies technopuzzlements and describes a lot of cool gadgetry.