Wednesday, November 30, 2011


Yesterday, Patti and I went out to the sand dunes northeast of town to get some sand to spread between the rocks on our patio. I buried the waterline to the float valve for the pond and finished wiring the plugs in the shed.

I haven’t built the waterfall yet but here is a picture of the temporary one.


I found the volcanic rock last year. It has some pockets in it and a hole on the bottom of one end that is perfect for putting the hose through. This will be at the top of the waterfall.

Patti and I are going up to Lake Havasu City today. That is the closest place to “Q” that has enough stores so we might find what we need. We are looking for some feeder gold fish, water plants and other accessories for the pond and a clothes line for Patti.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


Yesterday I started wiring the shed for the Washing machine. I ran some direct burial 12-2 with ground from from the main to the shed. Today I will finish the job.

Around 3:00 a bunch of us went to the French quarter for a weenie roast.


we stayed until after dark.


It was a lot of fun and laughs.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


Patti and I went to Parker today to do some shopping at Wal-Mart.

Not to exciting, eh. Well ok, here is an other fairly long installment of

The Kings Cudgel.

The door to the inn crashes open and a blast of arctic cold swirls in through the opening bring with it a cyclone of snow that coalesces into the figure of a man covered from head to foot by a long white fir trimmed traveling cloak. Long fingers extend from the ends of the sleeves, the right hand holds a staff of light, strong, Cracle wood with the image of a Galoot’s head carved on top. The large fangs of the Galoot curving down to form a hand guard of sorts. The man raises  his left hand to pull back the cowl of the cloak. The face is pale and thin with a long hawkish nose above thin lips stretched across a wide mouth. A heavy red beard covers much of the man’s face below the piercing blue eyes that now peer at the room from under great bushy red eyebrows. The man exhales a long plume of steam as he relaxes in the warmth of the inn. He shakes his shoulders and a small avalanche of snow slides from his cloak and piles on the floor around his feet. The man in white looks over the two Gorogorions and the girl picking herself up from the floor. Then he turns his attention to the fat inn keeper.
“Ha! Quintar you old reprobate! I see no one has burned the cudgel down around you yet! eh?” The man chortles in a dry reedy voice.

“It has been a while since I have been in these parts and I was very pleased to see the old place still standing.”

“Welcome, welcome, Tutorious Falis, It has been a long time indeed,” the inn keeper rumbles. “Where have you been these many years. I thought that the Usurper had captured and imprisoned you. Rumor had it that you were boiled in oil and then hanged and then drawn and quartered..”
Quintar looks aside to the girl. “Show this nice Gorogorion couple to room seven if you please Grenzelat.“
The girl curtsies and extending her hand in the direction of the doorway to the apartments. “This way please”, she says sweetly.


“Ah well” the man in white chuckles, The rumors of my demise Have been greatly exaggerated.
But now old friend, I need a room for the night and some of your famous Galitrop stew.
“I am afraid I will have to disappoint you mate.
The room I have but there will be no Galitrop stew this time of year. They have all migrated south and won’t be back until late spring.” Quintar growls.
“Alas“, sighs Tutorious. “All this long cold days travel I was sustained by the thought of a nice steaming bowl of The Cudgel’s famous Galitrop stew. Through the long cold leagues, breaking through waste high drifts of snow, crossing frozen rivers, I kept the vision of large fatty chunks of orange citrus flavored Galitrop meat floating in a thick purple gravy with those wonderful spicy red mushrooms that the Gorogorions cultivate in their forest fastness and those delicious sour, hairy, blue tubers and that strange bitter green slimy stuff, before me ” Tutorious gushes.
“And Now you tell me there will be no Galitrop stew to revive me after my toils.? I am undone” he moans.
“So now then, my deer innkeeper what meager sustenance do you offer a retched traveler on this cold and snowy night?” Tutorious queries.

Quintar squints his squinty eyes at Tutorious.
“Broiled Gore-rat or bloat sheep, Bugle toad stew, acorn mush, boiled tubers and redeye gravy with fresh red eyes.
Quintar intones.
“That’ll work” Tutorious replies with finality.  
“You’ve grown a bit long winded in the years that have passed” Quintar observes.
“Oh yes,” Tutorious clears his throat and speaks in a low whisper. “Since my rescue from the dungeons at Dragon Roost Prison near the end of the great rebellion, I drifted for many years, cleaning stables, digging graves, doing any kind of work to stay alive. One day I found myself in the great citadel at Car-lump-dour. I had found service with a noble there. He was the bastard son of some beheaded noble I believe. I only know him as Mr. Whipet. As you know the citadel is in the center of the largest metropolis in the realm.  Being a large city with thousands of people there is a need for news and communication, so this enterprising young fellow found an old partially destroyed hand operated printing press in a collapsed section of the

old city. He had the press and as much other related stuff that could be found, moved to an abandoned building down near the docks.  He rehabilitated the press, figured out how to work the thing and after many false starts began printing of all things, a newspaper. Can you believe it? A Newspaper!” Tutorious shakes his head.
“The first ones were no more that just hand bills. Just one page printed on one side.” Eventually circulation increased to the point where Mr. Whipet could sell advertising. Soon, he had to train another printer and then a staff of writers and reporters. The paper had a circulation of thousands and growing in the city and beyond. He is building a newspaper empire in the north. Now he is having a paper mill built on the Codswallow River. Some people down stream are in an uproar but he is pushing ahead with the project despite them.” Tutorious takes a breath.
“At any rate,” he goes on, I gained employment with his household, in the kitchens to be exact. I’m a great dish washer, you know” he chuckles. “Oh yes, world class ha, ha!. Which reminds me, my old friend, what will it cost me for a nights rest in your delightful inn and some of your delectable food and refreshment, ” he looks at Quintar from under his heavy red eye brows.
“One night and two meals will be one silver chip. Cash!” the innkeeper replies flatly.
“Yes, I see. A-hmm, that will be just fine“ Tutorious murmurs disappointedly and produces a small pouch from somewhere inside the sleeves of his cloak. He shakes it and it tinkles with the sound of a very few coins. Tutorious dumps the contents into his palm, pushes the bits of metal around with his finger tip, comes up with a silver chip and drops it on the bar. He returns the remaining coins to the pouch and with a flick of his hand that could not be seen, the pouch disappears back into the recesses of the sleeve.

“As I was saying” Tutorious continues his story “I was working in the kitchen and eating the meals prepared therein. They were very good meals as this young man had the good fortune to hire as his cook, a girl from Entergoria and everyone knows that Entergorian woman are the best cooks in the realm if not the entire world.” He stops and looks at Quintar for a moment.


“By grumpin! Your wife is an Entergorian if I am not mistaken,” he cries. “By the way, where is that spirited beauty of yours? I have been here for several minutes now and she has not shown her pretty face or so much as yelled at anyone. Where is the woman? Is she ill?” he asks.
“No“, Quintar’s growl is low and full of pain. “No, she passed on in child birth many years ago” he manages with only a slight quaver in his voice. He starts to say more but the words caught in his throat.
“I am truly sorry for your loss my old friend. Grenzelia was a prize, truly a prize” Tutorious says softly.
“And what of the child?” he asks.
“Oh, she survived and thrives today“ the innkeeper says flatly. She is the young girl that was here when you appeared in our foyer.”
“Ah yes the young beauty. I should have known. She has the look of her mother. You should be proud to be the father of such a lovely and well mannered daughter” Tutorious complements Quintar.
“Pretty, yes. Well mannered? Ha!” She is a lazy retch! and will no doubt end up badly.
“Wasn’t there another girl?” Tutorious asks. “She was about knee high the last time I saw her and cute as a button, as I remember”.
“Yes that would be my Blossom” Quintar replies proudly. “She is over at the fire preparing the evening meal. She inherited her mothers knack with food but sadly she got stuck with my looks”.
“Hmmm, yes, alas,” Tutorious mumbles.

“Well, as I was saying” Tutorious picked up his story again. I was sitting in the kitchen of my masters house expounding to the cook in my most eloquent terms on the epicurean delights that emanate from her humble refectory. I was over heard by the master of the house and was asked to join him in his study. Uncertain as to what I may have done to raise the ire of my employer, I sheepishly followed him up the long stairs from the kitchens to the main body of the house. Little did I know at the time that I was never to work in that kitchen again.”


Mr. Whipet led me to a set of double doors. He pushed open the right hand door, entered and strode across the room to a large polished desk behind which he sat and folded his hands in front of him on its top.
“You have a way with words”, he said. “Do you know your letters then?”
Yes sir, I was educated at the University of Coldpalace where I earned several degrees including; a MA in literature and philosophy, a BS in alchemy, a PHD in astrophysics,  a certificate in carpentry and dry wall and a WTF in divination.
“A WTF?” Whipet asked. What kind of a degree is that?
“Obviously you have never taken divination” I replied.
“In short, yes, I know how to read and write,” I continued. 
“So then”, he said pulling on his right earlobe, “I take it you have had some training in creative writing?
Of course!”, I replied.

“Well my friend,” Tutorious slapps the bar, “right then and there he offers me a job as a freelance restaurant critic and food writer. Yes sir, I even have my own byline; I am known as Tooty the Foody.”
“We took a little poetic license with my name, you see” Tutorious winks conspiratorially at Quintar.
Quintar clears his throat and shakes his head.
“How the mighty have fallen,” he mumbles to himself.
“Now then, you’ll be needing a room”, the innkeeper announces. “Do you have any preference for an upper or a lower?” he asks.
“The years I spent chained to the damp walls of  The Dragons Roost and the years of hard labor after that has left my muscles and bones too feeble to willingly climb ladders, so a lower if you please, kind sir.”
“Right, then! I’ll put you in number eight, next to that nice Gorogorion couple” Quintar tells him.
“Oh, I hope they don’t squeal all night” Tooty whines.
“No problem there my friend, they only rut in the spring, Tee, hee, hee, Quintar laughes.
Grenzelat? Grenzelat!! The innkeeper yells. “Where is that girl?!!”
Tutorious looks at the fat man with an expression of shock on his face.
“Grenzelat? You named her that?” Touorious Falis asks Quintar.


“Why, ah, yes, actually, I did,” Quintar admits sheepishly.
“Does she know what it means?” Tutorious asks in a low whisper.
Of course not, Quintar replies. “She will never know. No one knows the old tongue now a days. There are only a few of us left that were taught in the academy before the rebellion. You, me, maybe a few others, most of us died in the wars that followed or in prisons like The Dragons Roost.”
Just then the girl Grenzelat appears in the doorway to the back rooms.
“There you are, wench. What mischief have you been up to now.?
“Why father, I was just helping the Gorogorions get settled in.” Grenzelat replies sweetly.
“Oh, very well,” Quintar grumbles.
“This Gentleman is an old friend of mine. Show him to number eight and see that he has whatever he needs. Then get back to the cooking hearth and help your sister” he orders.
“The night coach is due in at anytime and there will be at least six hungry customers on board her.” And you stay away from that fellow, Jack,” he adds as an after thought.
“Did you say Jack?” Tutorious asks as he turns to look at the innkeeper.
“Why, yes, yes I did,” the fat man admits squinting at Tutorious. “Do you know him?
“Well no, not exactly, I only know of him. But if what I know about him is true you have no worries about your daughters virtue.” Tutorious assures him.
“My daughters virtue? Quintar laughs. “It’s the young mans virtue that concerns me with these wenches of mine around. Tee, hee, hee Quintar laughs again.
“So he doesn’t like girls eh?”
“Hear that Gren? he don’t like girls so just leave him alone and get back to your chores.”
“Not exactly Quin. I may enlighten you later but your daughter is safe or more to the point, Jack is safe for now.” The man in white bows deeply and follows the girl. The sound of his staff thudding against the floor with every other step as they disappear down the dark hallway.
“Windy old fool ” Quintar mumbles to no one in particular. Then he smiles to himself recalling ancient adventures with the quirky old scholar. Maybe wizard is a more fitting term.
“I wonder who this Jack person really is” he muses.


Becky, Dennis, Missy, Junior, Patti and I took a ride to check out the Apache Chief Mine to see if the BLM had blown it up. The ride over to the Apache Chief Mine is a fun one. We went south of town, turned left at the first BLM long term visitors camping area and drove to the drippings trail.


This is always an interesting trail.

We climbed the waterfalls


DSCF0373 DSCF0371






Eventually we got out of the wash


and headed for the Apache Chief. I always have a hard time finding the mine from the Dripping Springs side but eventually we arrived there and found that the BLM had not blown the mine as we had been told but was in fact, being worked.

We took the easy way home and got home around 4:00.

JoAnne and Dave arrived at the Park while we were on the ride. They have a brand new Jeep. Very Nice!

Saturday, November 26, 2011


Yesterday we worked around the place Patti pulled weeds and I trimmed the Paloverdi trees that hang over the pond. we got the solar lights set.


Our Bogenvilla Looks much better this year.


Today we are going for a ride.

I was talking to Junior and he mentioned that someone had told him that the BLM had blown up the apache chief mine so we are going out there to see if that is true. I think we will take the dripping springs trail so maybe we will have some good pictures.

The apache chief is one of the more fun mines to explore. It has some side tunnels and it goes through the mountain and comes out the other side.

Friday, November 25, 2011


Yesterday was Thanksgiving and all the restaurant in Quartzsite were closed so we went with Debby, Mike, Becky and Dennis to the Blue Water Casino and had a very nice turkey dinner at the buffet.

The women gambled for about an hour after dinner but I don’t think any of them won. I know that Patti didn’t.

Thursday, November 24, 2011


It was just like old times. Suzanne and Roy came by after we had gotten set up and said that they were going to Silly Al’s and would we like to join them. Of course we went with them Debby and Mike.

Its good to be back among our friends in Quartzsite.

The hydraulic levelers stopped working when we tried to level Plan “B”. I think it might be a blown fuse. I’ll have to check it out. Fortunately the lot is pretty level so it isn’t to important here.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


Left Avi Casino at 8:30 and arrived in Quartzsite at Noon.


Here is some more from The Kings Cudgel. This one is a little long.


“Grenzelat! Grenzelat!! A loud voice bellows from below. Where the devil is that poxie wench. GRENZELAT!!!” The walls shake from the proprietors voice.
“I better go” she whispers. Before she slips under Jacks arm and out the door she pauses to light the candle on the nightstand with her torch.

In the gloom of the candle the room is small, about seven feet by seven feet. A wooden cot with a lumpy, straw filled tick takes up one whole side of the room.. There is a rough wool blanket folded at the foot and a dirty straw filled pillow at the head. Under the small shuttered window in the wall at the head of the bunk is a crudely made nightstand atop which the half used tallow candle sputters in a shell dish. There is no other furniture in the room not even a hook to hand a cloak from.

“I’m coming father,” the girl replies meekly as she slides down the ladder.
“Where have you been, Wench?” Quintar yells as the girl slips by him ducking a swing from his right hand.
“We have more customers down here” he growls. “There’s no time for you to play games with that young northerner. Now, get in there and help out”. As he says this he puts his foot against her rump and propels her through the doorway.
She falls sprawling on the floor at the feet of two Gorogorions.

Gorogorions, how do I explain about Gorogorions?
The largest of this pair, a prime specimen of the breed, stands about three feet tall, with a barrel chest and thick stubby warted  legs. His head is large and warty with tufts of greenish hair sticking out of each wart. The face is vaguely elephantine with short tusks protruding from the upper jaw, and a prehensile nose, small mouth with many sharp teeth and large independently rotating dark eyes on short stalks that stick out of each side of the head at the temple. The other was a female and as such, almost indistinguishable (by humans) from the male, except that they are a little smaller than the male. The females voice is deeper, their skin is a little lighter shade of gray,  and they have a thin line of stiff red hairs running along the edge of their mule like ears whereas, the males ear hairs are gray.


No one really knows where Gorogorions came from and where they fit in the evolution of the planet. Of course there are many odd creatures roaming this world that some how don’t quite fit in.
I guess the best way to start is to go way back to the ancient history of what is now known as simply “The Realm.”
The oldest histories of the world, which were carved into wooden or clay tablets, refer to a great calamity or disaster occurring way back in the mists of time.
It has been learned by scholars in “modern“ times, that for centuries before the end of the original civilization there had been, famine, plague, political upheavals and wars for dwindling resources.
Eventually the endless wars exhausted the very resources that they were fighting over.
With no more oil to sell and few other resources the oil producing nations had eventually been taken over and consolidated politically by a radical religious sect bent on the cleansing of the world to prepare for the return of their deity. Feeling that they had nothing to loose and everlasting life to gain they unleashed a weapon of incredible destruction on an ancient rival.
In retaliation the allies of the attacked nation attacked the aggressors with a similar weapon. Allies of the aggressors upholding old treaties attacked that nation. The attacks and counterattacks eventually lead to a final crescendo of madness which unleashed all the arsenals on the planet in a final orgasum of nuclear, biological, chemical, and genetic destruction.
Some lucky few managed to escape the destruction of the final days by taking refuge in deep man made caves that had been provisioned for the occasion. For generations they hid like rodents in a hole. When they finally emerged, the world that they found was far different from the world that their great grandfathers had escaped . Of the other creatures that were left to crawl back from the brink of extinction, many of the species had changed completely due to the effects of radiation and the chemical, bio and genetic weapons. Other species appeared that didn’t really fit on any previous evolutionary tree. Many familiar animals  like cattle, pigs, deer, geese, and many others disappeared altogether.

It was almost as if a great wind had stripped the branches from the tree of evolution and a bunch of suckers grew out of the stubs.

The Gorogorions are one of those strange anomalies.
They were first discovered by hunters in the ancient Gorogor Forest, that forms the eastern border of the Realm and runs unbroken for a thousand miles from the southern dessert to the foot of the ice fields of North Morovanda. On its east side it climbs the High Barrier Mountains to the timberline. No one knows how deep the forest actually is or how many or what kind of creatures live secluded in its gloomy depths.
Legends, old wives tales and superstition keep the denizens of the forest secure in their dark world. 
Occasionally some intrepid and brave hunters will penetrate the forest in pursuit of some game or other. This was indeed the case for two such men, whose names are lost to time. Following the blood trail of a large gore-rat, they entered the forest and after several hours became hopelessly lost. Eventually they stumbled upon a nest of what we now call “Gorogorions”. The creatures were busily preparing the lost Gore Rat for eating when the two hunters burst upon them in a mood to do mayhem in order to wrest the rat from these strange bug eyed creatures.
When the Gorogorions detected the intruders they bowed their heads extended their mule like ears and began to hum.
Immediately the hunters relaxed, forgot their aggression and set down their weapons.
The Gorogorions, with a few gestures set the men even more at ease and invited them dine on broiled gore rat, truffles, and tubers. The hunters were happy to comply and spent several weeks living with the Gorogorions. Learning their simple language and teaching the Gorogorions to speak “Standard”, the language of the realm.
That was several hundred years ago and now, Gorogorions are a common sight and are known now as extraordinary mushroom and truffle cultivators and traders. Most importantly, with their extraordinary psychic talent for defusing stressful situations they are welcome guests anywhere.
The Monarchs of all the kingdoms have in their entourage several of the small mild mannered creatures.
Since the discovery of Gorogorions and their incorporation in the world, major wars between kingdoms have virtually stopped. In parliaments,

congresses, assemblies and throne rooms real work is even occasionally accomplished without rancor. It became quite fashionable for the homes of the nobility to have at least one Gorogorions in residence. Often the small grey creatures become a beloved member of the family.
Now, don’t misunderstand me, this is not a form of slavery.
The Gorigonions are invited to join a household and stay as long as they like. They are not required to do any work, although the Gorogorions are very helpful creatures at heart and delight in being productive.
Most Gorogorions are able to communicate with humans in ‘standard’. The problems occur with the inability of humans to understand Gorogrions speech. Their long prehensile nose and small toothy lower jaw make it almost impossible for them to clearly enunciate the round vowels of human standard so they speak a sort of shorthand which is made of mostly consonants.
Although Gorogorions form life long partnerships with members of the opposite sex, they have a mating season like other “lesser” animals. In the fall the males and females both experience  hormonal changes which for a time severs the bond between couples. The individuals separate and mate wildly with any Gorigorions of the opposite sex that they come in contact with. Once the mating season is over the couples reform like nothing has happened and raise any offspring that are born in the spring. Unfortunately their mating frenzy seldom results in many pregnancies so the Gorogorion population stays consistently small.
I am sure that I have missed some of the other Gorogorion traits but we will no doubt discover those together.
The only article of clothing that Gorogorions wear in all weather is a kind of loin cloth made of fake “Spiny Dracon hide.“ Legend has it that the first Gorogorion captured a Spiny Dracon and trained it to let him ride; then to show the world how tough the Gorogorions are he mounted the Spiny Dracon and rode it through the world.
If you ever saw a Spiny Dracon you would know that the legend is a lie.
The Spiny Dracon is an animal about the size of a yearling calf with a wide swath of sharp spines running down its back to the tip of its flat spiked tail. The head on the Dracon is long and narrow with a large mouth filled with a double row of serrated teeth. The hide across the shoulders and along the flanks of the creature is tough and thick and covered with thick sharp spines. The hide will resist penetration by the sharpest hunting spear. Even

Now-a days even men with flint locks give these animals a wide berth on the rare occasion that they are encountered.
Anyway, the Gorogorions continue the tradition with the wearing of the symbolic Dracon skin loin cloth. It isn’t really Dracon skin but the hide of a porcupine with the spikes pulled out. But at least they wear something, because believe me, no one wants to see a Gorogorion’s genitalia.


We got a late start from Lost hills. We had to wait until the fog thinned and didn’t get on the road until about 11:00. The ride to Avi Casino was uneventful. We arrived at about 7:00 and had a disappointing dinner at the Avi buffet. After supper, I went back to the RV while Patti tried her luck at the slots. She lost and was back at the RV after about an hour.

We will be leaving here about 9:00 to day and should be in Quartzsite by about Noon.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


We got a little bit of a late start yesterday. When I wired the plug for the tow lights on the Jeep I got the final plug wired backwards. It took me a little while to find the problem but eventually got it fixed. We got on the road about an hour late. The ride to Lost Hills was uneventful which is the way I like it. We spent a pleasant night at lost hills and will be leaving here when ever the fog lifts. I hope it is gone before 10:00 because I don’t really want to drive in the fog.

Next port, “Avi” casino near Needles.

Monday, November 21, 2011



Look out Quartzsite here we come!

Yes, that’s right we are leaving SR today and will be in “Q” Wednesday afternoon.

Sunday, November 20, 2011


Okay its Sunday, one more day to go. It is raining right now but it is supposed to stop by tomorrow.  We hope to be on the road by 10:00 tomorrow morning.

Here is another page of the Cudgel.

“Uh? What?” He stammers stupidly.
“Do you want a room up above or down here?” She asked with a slight giggle.
“Do the upper rooms have a window?” he asks not knowing what else to say.
“Some do” she replies “and bolts on the inside of the doors to” she adds coyly.
The girl precedes him a little farther down the hall, turns to the left and climbs a ladder that is set against the wall. At the top of the ladder she steps onto a catwalk that runs back the way they had come but about eight feet above. Along the catwalk are more doors to rooms.
“Which one would you like?” the girl croons. “You are our first guest tonight so you have your pick.” 
“Is there any difference in the rooms?” Jack asks.
“Well“ the girl giggles, the second room from the far end has a large window, a big soft bed and is the room next to mine, she whispers running her index finger down his arm.
“Gosh” Jack stammers “that sounds, a, nice”.
“Damn!!” He thinks “what an idiot!!”
“Gosh that sounds nice”?
“She must think I’m a complete bumpkin.”
“Dose that mean you would like to take that room, young sir?” the girl teases.
Yes, yes that will do fine he says making his voice lower, trying desperately to sound cool and failing miserably.
“Hmm.” the girl muses. She turns and walks toward the opposite end of the catwalk. She stops at the second door from the end opens it and steps inside. Just inside the door she turns around so that Jack, who is following closely, runs right into her. He has to wrap his arms around her to keep them both from falling.
“Oooh, you do like me”, Grenzelat exhales.
Under her light clothing she feels warm and soft and pleasantly bumpy as he tries to extricate himself from what is becoming an embarrassing situation.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, please excuse me,” he stammers stepping back and regretfully removes his arms from around her firm young body.

Saturday, November 19, 2011


We are still in the process of getting ready to leave on Monday for Quartzsite.

Here is another page from the cudgel for you.

“I’m coming father” a lyrical voice comes from an archway in the wall to the left of the bar.
A young girl appears in the arch. She is tall and slender with long blond curls cascading down her back to her small waste. Her eyes are dark and flash with an inner fire. She smiles at Jack and his knees go weak. She has a wide mouth with ample red lips and even white teeth. Her smile causes dimples on either side of her mouth. She is wearing the standard off the shoulder white cotton blouse of girls of her station. She wears it a little lower than normal exhibiting the rise of her firm young breasts to great advantage. Her blue cotton skirt is full and reaches nearly to the floor. When she walks she exposes her small feet covered with light goat skin slippers.
“What do you want Father?” She asks sweetly, wiping her palms on a stained apron tied around her waist. “Show this young fellow to his room and no funny business now. Do you understand?”
“Yes father, as you say.” The girl replies, curtsies to Jack and indicating the doorway with a delicate hand “Right this way young Sir,” she croons and disappears through the doorway.
Jack follows in a trance.

The girl takes a torch down from its hole in a post and holding it ahead of her, beaconing Jack to follow, she starts down a dark hall. As Jack stumbles along in the gloomy shadows behind the girl, he wonders at this beauty he was following . Could she really be the daughter of the Kings Cudgel and sister to Blossom of all things? It seems unlikely.

“I wonder what her mother is like” he thinks. “Look at the mother and see the daughter was the old saw.”
Then another thought comes into his head “Who were those retched children turning the spits? “Were they Blossom’s or Grenzelat’s or even Quintar’s children.
Grenzelat’s melodic voice breaks into his thoughts. “Upper or lower? she asks.

Thursday, November 17, 2011


Yesterday we went to get some new shoes for me that would fit with the new brace. I ended up getting size 14 extra wide. We had to take the insole out of the left one, the one with the brace, and put three insoles in the right one.


I will have to go to Petaluma tomorrow to get some final adjustments made.


Ok, here is another page of, The Kings Cudgel.

“You! You are the Kings Cudgel!” Jack blurts out without thinking.
“Yes, they called me that once,” Quintar replies wiping his hands on his filthy apron.
Hoping to change the subject he becomes very businesslike.
“Now then my lad, lodging’ll cost you 1 silver chip for the night. That’ll include two meals one evening and one morning” Quintar goes on. “A bath’ll be another copper, two if you want hot water and soap, three coppers if you want Blossom over there to scrub your back. He nods his head toward the fire by the end wall and some how actually winks a squinty eye at Jack.
Jack looks toward the fire and is caught looking by Blossom who smiles coyly, looks away and giggles.
“Just a room and the meals thank you” Jack mumbles.
“As you will. That will be one silver chip then” Quintar holds out his pudgy hand and Jack drops a small flat triangle of silver the size of a thumb nail into his palm.
Quintar inspects the coin then puts it between his teeth and bites down on it.
“Right, then,” he growls. “Foods not ready yet so I’ll have my other daughter show you to your room. “Grenzelat!!” he yells over his shoulder. After a moment with no response he grumbles, “Where is that worthless slattern! Grenzelat! Get your scabby bum out here!”

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The kings Cudgel 4


Quintar grins at Jack as if he has told a great joke and is trying not to laugh out loud.
“My business in Granite Ford is my own sir.” Jack retorts. “Do you have food and a place where a traveler can rest in safety for the night? If not I shall wish you a good day and move along” Jack says haughtily.

“And what would you do young sir, camp along the road? In this weather? Ha!!” the fat man barks a laughs. “There’s not another inn on the Kings Road until you get to the Boars Tooth at the Dweesle River ferry crossing. That’s a days travel on foot from here. This snow storm is getting worse and it’s almost dark, If you try to camp in the open in these parts your throat’ll be cut and your purse gone before you have a chance to roll into your blankets. If not that, then you would be a frozen slab of wolf chow by morning.”
The fat man laughs again, it is a high almost womanly laugh and his whole body jiggles so much that Jack thinks that he might fall over.

It is hard for Jack to believe that this is the dreaded Quintar Rogan. The man who, legend has it, almost single handedly defeated the usurper, Galidon the Dark; stopped the rebellion and saved the kingdom for old King, Grogan. Of course that was many years ago and the old king died only a year after the final battle for his kingdom.

His son, Ernest the Weak, ascended to the throne but was overthrown after a year in a bloodless coup by his cousin Ferdinand, The Horny, with support of the Generals and Ernest, himself (Ernest never wanted to be king in the first place).

Ferdinand was a disappointing ruler. His main interest being, bedding as many of the women of the court as he possibly could corner. His reign was cut short however when his Queen Isadora found him shagging her hand maiden in her tower bedroom. In a screaming fit she pushed the king out of a tower window.

The queen was named temporary regent by the Council of Nobles. As it turned out, they considered pushing Ole Ferdy from the window was a public service and deserved a reward.  Regent Isadora ruled for ten years before succumbing to an unknown ailment and mysteriously passing away during the night. Queen Isadora, The Crude, (as she was known) had a son supposedly sired on her by King Ferdinand but that was never verified.
Even so, her son, Vernon of Newcastle, was invested as king without complaint from the people or the gentry. Vernon proved to be a capable king and was respected if not loved by his people. His reign, so far has been prosperous for some and not so for others, hence the robbers and cut throats that one can encounter on the Kings Highway….

“Oh no young sir” The fat man continues, bringing  Jack back from his ruminations. “You have no place to go on to so you might as well relax and spend a safe night here with us at the Kings Cudgel.”
With a jolt Jack remembered where he had heard of the “Kings Cudgel”. It was the name given to the hero, Quintar Rogan.

Monday, November 14, 2011


The other day as we were driving  up the dirt road to the cabin, we hit a particularly bad stretch of washboard and I heard a loud “snap!” The left front mounting bolt for the rack broke. Fortunately the rack stayed together until we got to the cabin. I didn’t have any tools to fix the rack at the cabin but I did have some black vinyl tape, so I taped the rack together and it held until we got home.

Yesterday I took the rack off the jeep to make the repair. I had to cut the ends off both legs to keep everything even.


This is the end with the broken bolt. “duh”

I came across a couple of 3/8” x 1” grade 8 bolts in my bolt stash so I used them for replacements.


The 3/4” tubing inside the 1” tubing is the stub of my first attempt to make the mount. When I cut it off to attach the original bolt I found that the inner tubing was just what I needed for a spacer for the bolt head to fit tight.

I tacked the bolt in.


then filed it flat,


The next thing was to drill a 3/8” hole in a piece of 1/4’ flat stock and put it over the bolt and tighten it down with a nut.


Then I welded the 1/4” piece to the tubing


and grind it all down nice.


This morning I threw some paint on it and as soon as the paint dried I put the rack back on the jeep.

Today I went to see a guy that makes Prosthetics to get a brace for my left leg to help with my drop foot and hopefully help to relieve some of the pain I experience when I walk.



We’ll see.

The brace is supposed to be worn inside of a shoe.                      My right foot is already one size smaller than my left.                    To fit the brace, the left shoe will have to be at least another half size larger than the shoes that I wear now. That means that I will likely have to buy two pairs of shoes and will have one very large right shoe and a smaller left one left over. Any suggestions for what to do with a pair of shoes that are two different sizes? I have to go shoe shopping tomorrow, after we get the RV out of storage.

We have moved our departure date for Quartzsite to Monday the 21st.

Okay that‘s all for now.

Sunday, November 13, 2011


Patti and I went up to the cabin on Wednesday for one final time this season. We had a very pleasant time, The weather was good and we managed to finish cutting up all the trees that Bob and I worked on a couple of weeks ago.

We pulled the trees out of the creek and off the hill onto the road with the jeep. My new receiver rescue ”D” ring worked just perfect.

I sawed


and Patti cleared brush


and moved logs off the road.


We had a great time and came home Saturday afternoon.

Next week we will get Plan “B” out of storage and start loading it for the trip back to Quartzsite.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011


Lately I have been on the horns of a dilemma so to speak. 

I know that most of my readers would prefer a daily blog as opposed to my hit and miss style. Unfortunately a lot of the time in the summer especially, I am out of reach of technology and therefore I am not able to publish a daily blog. There isn’t a lot that I can do about that part.

Another thing is, as you may have noticed my life, like yours, isn’t a constant daily parade of fun and exciting events. There are a lot of days where I do nothing or just mundane daily chores that aren’t very interesting to me let alone any one else.

I have been trying to figure a way to fill in on the days when I have nothing interesting to report.

You probably have noticed if you have been following this blog for a while that among other things I am a frustrated writer of stories. I know that I‘m not very good at it but it is a compulsion with me. Often when I least expect it a scene or idea for a story will pop into my head. Most of the time I don’t do anything about it but on a rare occasion I will actually write the scene down.

I was sitting in the cabin the last time I was there, looking out the front window at the dining hall and thinking of cool names for the hall. I went through a long list.

Here are a few of them;

“The Boars Tooth”, “The stags head”, “The Drunken Patriot” (that one is not my idea it was the name of a tavern that was set up at a rendezvous we used to go to) and “The Kings Cudgel”. You may think that is an odd name for an inn and so did I but it triggered one of those mental scenes that I was telling you about. I was near my laptop and I had nothing else pressing to do so I quickly turned the computer on, brought up the word processer and started typing.

The original draft was just a quick study of the interior of the inn and an introduction to a couple of the characters. The battery on the laptop was running out so I couldn’t do more than that. When I got home, I started fleshing out the draft. Since then the story has been growing.

Then it hit me. This might be the filler that I have been looking for.

I don’t know where the story is going or what characters we might encounter along the way or if it will have a nice neat ending or just fade away but here is what I am proposing.

On days when I don’t have anything entertaining to relate, I will publish a page of whatever story I am currently writing on. That way you will have some thing to read with your morning coffee or dump or whatever.

I am going to publish a few of pages in this post. Just to give you some idea of what I’m talking about.

Read it and let me know if you would like me to continue.

There is a comment thing at the bottom of each blog, I don’t know how it works but I think if you can do face book it will work for you. Otherwise most of you have my email address so you can do that but please let me know if you are interested in me continuing to post the stories or not.

Okay, here goes,  the first three pages of,

“The Kings Cudgel”

The Kings Cudgel

On a lonely stretch of the kings road a low building, squatting along the edge of the road looms out of  the gloom of a bad winter storm. The snow of midwinter has piled up along the walls almost to the eves. The roof is covered with deep snow and long Ice-sickles hang from the eves reaching deep into the drifts. Smoke streams away in the wind from a large chimney at one end of the building. The snow has been cleared from the door and forms a short tunnel leading to the Inn. A sign on a tall pole in front of the Inn swings wildly back and forth in the wind. From the crossbar of the post hangs a large crudely made club shaped something like a short base ball bat with two metal bands wrapped around the business end. A sign with large painted black letters hanging below the club reads,
“The Kings Cudgel”  

The “Kings Cudgel” ? “What a strange name for an inn“,  Jack thinks as the cold winter wind swirls snow around him. He shrugs, pushes open the heavy door and steppes across the threshold into a long low room. The only illumination in the inn comes from the yellow flame of guttering torches set in holes bored into some of the gnarly tree trunks that are the supports for the low peaked roof
and a large fire place. Jack stops just inside the door shakes the snow off his traveling cloak and pulls back the cowl. His long dark hair hangs in curls to his shoulders. A halo of frost rings his strong face and melting ice cycles drip from the tips of his mustache, goatee and the cuffs and hem of his cloak. He waits a moment before continuing further into the room absorbing the heat from the large fire place about thirty feet away which covers one whole end of the room to his left. Three fires burn in the hearth, a couple of braziers are set to one side with kettles on them. Steam rises from the kettles and smoke rises from the fires as a small pig and a lamb drip fat onto the coals while being turned on spits by a small boy and girl dressed in tattered, dirty, greasy rags.
Stirring a large kettle with a wooden paddle over the third fire is a very large girl with fat cheeks and squinty eyes. Her straggly greasy hair is damp with sweat and sticks to the sides of her face. Her ample bosom sways under the damp, stained, cotton, of her off the shoulder blouse as she stirs the contents of the pot. Her skirt is of rough sacking that is tattered along the hem and is darkly stained with who knows what. Her feet are large flat, thorny and unwashed.
“I’ll have to remember not to drink the house wine,“ Jack thinks absently”. The girl catches him looking and winks at him. Embarrassed, Jack turns away.

To his right several low rough tables are set against the wall with equally rough hewn benches. On each of the tables, are the large flat shells of some sort of mollusk with several unlit candle stubs set on them.
There are other tables randomly set about the room, with  stools, stumps and small benches placed around each.
Jack notices the bar across from him. It is no more than two split planks laid across a couple of  tree trunks and leveled with rocks. Behind the bar is a very fat man that Jack supposes is the proprietor.

He swings the small pack off his back knocks the snow off it and makes his way to the bar. The roof beams are so low that Jack, a tall man, has to duck to keep from bashing his head as he crosses the room.
Behind the bar, the fat man with a very large head and a very receding hairline, watches jack through slit eyes as jack approaches. What is left of the man’s hair is tied back in a cue that sticks straight out from the back of his head for couple of inches and then blooms into a little tuft. The man had full jowls that waggled when he moves his head and a little rosebud mouth that looks out of place on the other wise hard face. His almond shaped eyes are tiny slits in his cheeks on ether side of a wide flat nose.
Behind the fat man, on a rough shelf are several brown misshapen hand thrown jugs. On each end of the shelf is a wooden keg with a tap stuck in the bung. On a high short shelf are two, what appear to be actual glass bottles. The bottles are covered with a thick layer of dust but they are clean enough to see the level of the amber liquid they contain. Glass bottles are a very rare thing these days and very precious. If the liquid inside is actual commercial “Whiskey” they are  even more precious. Jack was puzzled that the bottles were being displayed in such an open fashion.
The fat man spoke and Jack had to control the impulse to jump back and draw a weapon.
The mans voice seamed to come from every where. It was deep and rumbling like boulders rolling down a mountain. The voice was felt as much as heard.
“You seam to have an interest in my back bar” The fat man rumbled and if possible squinted his eyes even more as he peered at Jack.
“I am relatively well traveled at least in the north and I have only seen two other glass bottles in my life.” Jack exclaimed. “They belonged to the Earl of Stone Bridge and were kept in a safe box. They were only brought out on special occasions. The liquor in bottles had long since been consumed but the bottles were venerated as if they were some sort of religious relic. Aren’t you afraid some one will steal yours?“
“Ha-ha. No one would have the balls to steal from Quintar Rogan! The hero of the battle of Black’s Ford. Sacker of the white city of Contenell and General of old King Grogan’s Black Guard. Have no fear bucko, woe unto he who tries.”
“I take it that you are this Quintar Rogan person of witch you speak? Jack asks sheepishly.
“Yes, that I am. And who might you be my curious young sprout?
“I am called Jack.
“Jack? Jack! The proprietor ruminated a moment. “Jack, An odd name, I don’t believe I have ever heard that name in these parts before. Do you have a second name, you know like a last name? Like maybe your fathers name?” Quintar asks.
“Well, no, actually, my father’s name was also, Jack. In fact my grand father and his father and all their fathers before them were named simply “Jack”.
“This is very odd indeed. How do people where you live tell you and your father apart?” Quintar asks, rubbing his chin.
“Well that’s simple” Jack replies. “We look different”
“No, no, no, I mean when they are talking about you and your dad, how do they differentiate between the two of you.” Quintar urges.
“Oh yes, I see now what you mean,” Jack replies. “They just call my dad old Jack and me they call young Jack.
Now, what about your grand-dad, is he still alive? Quintar asks. 
“Oh yes indeed he is sir very much so“ Jack replies enthusiastically with a shake of his head and a small chuckle.
So, now, when people want to differentiate between your grand-dad and the rest of the Jacks, what do they call him. Quintar realized as soon as he asked the question what the answer was and he spoke in unison with Jack.
“Grandpa Jack”!
“Oh!” The fat man mumbles as he slaps both hands to the sides of his face and sighs deeply.
“What brings you south then young Jack?” Quintar asks resignedly shaking his head. “And how may we help you” he adds.
I am on my way to “Granite Ford”.
“I seek food and a nights shelter.” Jack replied.
“Granite Ford eh!” growled the fat man. “Off to see the king then, eh ?”

Okay, that’s the first three Pages of The kings Cudgel. Let me know if you want me to continue.

Patti and I are going up to the cabin for one final time this week. We are leaving in the morning tomorrow and won’t be home until Saturday unless we run out of firewood before then. Who knows maybe we will have a bear sighting.

Monday, November 7, 2011


The last couple of days have been a bit slow.

Saturday we went to a birthday party for our friend, Peter. It was fun and we got to visit with a lot of folks that we don’t see very often.

Matt and Elisa went up to the camp for the weekend to take down their tent and stay in the cabin.

I got a call from Elisa last evening saying that they saw a two to three hundred pound Black bear walking through the camp. Matt fired a shot and scared it off. I hope it doesn’t decide to get into the cabin.

I have appointments today and tomorrow but on Wednesday Patti and I are going to the cabin for the last time this season. We are planning to come home Friday or Saturday depending on how long our firewood supply lasts.

Talk to you later

Friday, November 4, 2011


It has been a while since I cleaned up my shop so after the destruction and kayos caused by the last several projects, I figured it was time. I spent most of yesterday cleaning, putting and throwing things away. The shop is still small and crammed with tools and parts, but I always feel better when it gets cleaned up. Kind of like taking a good dump.


Of course, the first thing this morning I was out there welding and grinding and generally making a mess again.

If you’ll recall, when I took the new bird thrower up to the cabin to try it out I mentioned that there were a few adjustments that had to be made.

One of the things that needed attention was the part where the front legs slide onto the short feet of the cross bar. These are the factory feet and are nothing more than angle iron that was notched and bent at 90 degrees. Originally I just slid the legs onto the feet, drilled a hole through both parts, put a bolt through the hole with large flat washer on each side and tightened up the nut. I thought that would be sufficient but in field I noticed that the bolt didn’t tighten fully because there was nothing to back up the thin wall of the square tubing that I was using for the leg. To remedy the problem I welded (after doing some creative metal carving) a piece of 1” square tubing to each foot.


Now there will be something for the bolt to tighten on.

The next project was a little more involved and consequently a bit more fun.

While we were testing the thrower the height adjustment locking wing nut kept getting loose. I decided to make something that can be tightened sufficiently to hold the setting even with my arthritic old hands.


The first thing I did was take a piece of 1” steel rod and cut off a 1” piece. This will be the nut. Next I put it in the lathe and faced off both ends to make it flat and even.


Then I drilled a pilot hole in on end.


After that I used progressively larger drills until I had a 5/16” hole all the way through the nut.


Now it is time to tap the hole for a 3/8 x16 bolt. Drilling and tapping something like this that is kind of long you almost need a lathe or a mill to get a strait hole and the tap started straight. If it isn’t straight it won’t make it all the way through the hole before it gouges into the side and jams.  I put the tap in the drill chuck in the tail stock of the lathe and got it started by turning the lathe head stock back and forth by hand until the tap was in the nut about 1/4”


then I locked the headstock, put a tap handle on the tap and continued turning the tap back and forth advancing a little more each time until after a long time I had a 3/8” tapped hole through the entire 1” nut.


The next thing to do was to make the “wings” on the nut. I decided to go with spindles instead of wings. I cut two 1 1/2” pieces of 1/2” hot rolled rod, prettied them up a little on the lathe


and welded them to the nut.


That aught to work!!

In the midst of all this productive work Patti and I took the Jeep and her car to get them smogged.  They both passed so now we are that much closer to leaving for Arizona. If everything goes according to plan we should be leaving here on the 18th or 19th of November.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011


Sunday 10-30

I have been trying to figure out what to do with the axe and shovel that I carry in the jeep. They are always in the way.

After looking at all the possibilities, I decided that the best place for them is on the inside of the back door.

I cut up some of those flat rubber bungee's,


modified a couple of tie down hooks, screwed them to the door


and strapped the shovel and axe down.


It looks like it will work just fine.

Monday, 10-31;

I have been wanting to put a receiver hitch on my jeep for a while now but the add on ones that I see in the jeep catalogues look kind of wimpy and the ones that come with a bumper attached are kind of pricey, so I felt that the best way to get a good bumper with a receiver at reasonable price was to build it myself.

The plan is to base the whole thing on a piece of 2” X 3” X 56” thick wall rectangular steel tubing for the bumper. I’m not sure how the receiver is going to be attached or what I am going to use for the hitch but the bumper is the starting place.

I went to the local salvage yard to see if they had what I needed but I was disappointed. I only needed a piece 56” long. The salvage place had only 20’ lengths and a minimum sale of 10’. I didn’t have my saw with me and I didn’t really want to buy 10 ft piece any way. I left the salvage place and went to our local retail metal dealer. I new that the cost would be high but I figured that it wouldn’t be as much as a 10 ft piece at the salvage yard. That 56 inch piece of tubing was just under $60. Maybe I should have gone home and got my saw after all.


The first thing  that had to be done was to remove the bumperetts from the back of the jeep.


Then the bumper tube had to be lined up to mark the holes.


I took a break for lunch and while I was at it I decided to go over to Harbor Freight to see what they had in the way of hitch stuff. I got lucky and found just the thing that was needed for the receiver. It is called of all things a “Standard receiver tube”. Now how about them oranges. One end of the tube has the receiver socket (the female end) which will be welded to the bumper. The other end is the male end and will be used to make a “D” ring rescue hitch. The best part is it only cost me $17.

After lunch I clamped the bumper to the frame to get the holes marked. Then clamped the bumper in my drill press and started drilling.


Once the holes were done I cut the section of the receiver tube that is to be welded to the bumper. I set it in place to see what it will look like.


As well as welding the tube to the bumper I will weld a flat triangular plate under the receiver and to the bumper to strengthen the whole thing.

That’s as far as I went with the project today.

Tuesday, 11-01

This morning I welded the receiver and plate to the bumper


Then I went in search of 7/16” X 3” grade 8 bolts. I ended up going to 3 stores to get 8 bolts. While I was out I bought a socket and plug for the tow lights.

The next job was to make a 1” hole in the bumper for the tow light socket.


The next thing was to drill and tap a couple of holes for the screws that hold the socket.



Next I welded on and ground down the end caps.


The last thing I did on the project today was to put a bracket on the bumper to mount the CB antenna. I put the bumper on temporarily to line things up.


The antenna is going to be on the right end of the bumper and will go up through the rear door open stop. It is a tight fit. I eyeballed everything and thought I had this made. I removed the bumper and welded the bracket in place;


then put the bumper back on and attempted to hook up the antenna. Oops! The bracket is off by about 1/4 inch so the antenna won’t clear the sides of the door stop. Okay, so I guess my first job tomorrow will be to grind the bracket off of the bumper and try again.

My youngest daughter, Felice came by for a visit this evening.

Unfortunately her Cancer has returned. She is undergoing bio-chemo therapy at Kaiser in Riverside, CA.

Wednesday, 11-02

The first thing I did on the bumper project this morning, was to remove and reposition the CB antenna bracket. It turned out that the best place for the bracket was turned 90 degrees on the end of the bumper.


While looking the whole thing over I noticed that I didn’t provide for safety chains. I really didn’t plan to tow anything on the highway with this rig but I guess it better have some kind of safety chain connection, so I welded a 1/2” rod on each side of the receiver.


Next comes the paint job. I set up three jack stands and put the bumper across them. I primed it and painted it with some “epoxy” appliance paint.


While the paint was drying I started making the rescue “D” ring mount. First I cut 2” off of a piece of 1” X 1-1/2” steel scrap. The next was to drill a 7/8” hole in the block,


then cut a piece of 1/4” X 2” steel to fit the end of the receiver tube,


then weld it up and paint it.


After the paint dried I mounted the bumper and connected the CB antenna.

The last thing I did was to wire the plug for the tow lights.

Here is the finished product.


Now I am ready go to drag trees out of the woods.

I probably should have published this project as a daily post. Maybe next time I have a project that lasts this long I’ll do that.

Well It looks like Harvey is benched for the season. I hope he learns something from this experience.