Monday, February 14, 2005
Dorks Just Wanna Have Fun
Sometimes I suspect that I provide my family and friends with too much amusement.
Inadvertently, and at no cost.
I like stuff. Outdoor stuff. And I use it in unique ways.
For example, a friend just about ripped a stitch laughing recently when I showed up with an Orvis magnifying glass attached to my hat brim.
What the friend failed to comprehend is that the magnifying glass is designed to attach to a hat brim, out in front where the eyes cross. And nowhere else. Its original purpose was to help aging eyes tie tiny flies to leaders the size of a spider web.
I use it for anything that I want to examine closely, whether a bug in my drink or a parking ticket.
And here's another good thing: If you flip the magnifier down and try to look at somebody from three feet away, it distorts their face in a horrid but satisfying manner.
So the last laugh was mine.
Then there were the hiking boots.
I'd read about this neat trick in one of the outdoor magazines. If you take a new pair of boots, put them on and lace them up, stand in a bathtub half-filled with water, then wear the boots until they dry on your feet, you'll not have to break in another pair of new treads.
One of my young daughters came into the bathroom where I was standing in water with my new L.L. Beans on, britches rolled to my knees and flashing a beatific smile.
"Dad!" she demanded. "What are you doing? Don't be a dork!"
OK, so I had to look up dork. Nevertheless, it was goodbye to corns and calluses.
Then there's the matter of flashlights.
Do you have a clue what wonderful flashlights they're making these days? I kid you not; I probably have 25.
Some are guaranteed to burn forever. Others fit on your head or clip to your belt.
There's even one that attaches to a hat brim, but I have no space for it.
I am especially fond of the ones that fit over the head, sort of like the old miner's lamp or the style that cavers and underwater divers use. One headlamp will flash an LED light that's supposed to be visible for up to a mile, and I can't wait to try it.
Of course, I neither mine coal nor do I dive with sharks, but that doesn't keep me from wearing my headlamp occasionally during the daytime.
You never know when you're going to fall into an old well or abandoned outhouse or something.
My favorite light at the moment (I admit to being fickle on these things) is called a Stylus Streamlight. It's the size of a pencil. I carry mine in my pocket.
If there's ever been a handier light (you simply press a button the size of a pencil eraser) to look for black-widow spiders in new boots, I haven't found it.
Be charitable, please.
There are worse obsessions.
END
Inadvertently, and at no cost.
I like stuff. Outdoor stuff. And I use it in unique ways.
For example, a friend just about ripped a stitch laughing recently when I showed up with an Orvis magnifying glass attached to my hat brim.
What the friend failed to comprehend is that the magnifying glass is designed to attach to a hat brim, out in front where the eyes cross. And nowhere else. Its original purpose was to help aging eyes tie tiny flies to leaders the size of a spider web.
I use it for anything that I want to examine closely, whether a bug in my drink or a parking ticket.
And here's another good thing: If you flip the magnifier down and try to look at somebody from three feet away, it distorts their face in a horrid but satisfying manner.
So the last laugh was mine.
Then there were the hiking boots.
I'd read about this neat trick in one of the outdoor magazines. If you take a new pair of boots, put them on and lace them up, stand in a bathtub half-filled with water, then wear the boots until they dry on your feet, you'll not have to break in another pair of new treads.
One of my young daughters came into the bathroom where I was standing in water with my new L.L. Beans on, britches rolled to my knees and flashing a beatific smile.
"Dad!" she demanded. "What are you doing? Don't be a dork!"
OK, so I had to look up dork. Nevertheless, it was goodbye to corns and calluses.
Then there's the matter of flashlights.
Do you have a clue what wonderful flashlights they're making these days? I kid you not; I probably have 25.
Some are guaranteed to burn forever. Others fit on your head or clip to your belt.
There's even one that attaches to a hat brim, but I have no space for it.
I am especially fond of the ones that fit over the head, sort of like the old miner's lamp or the style that cavers and underwater divers use. One headlamp will flash an LED light that's supposed to be visible for up to a mile, and I can't wait to try it.
Of course, I neither mine coal nor do I dive with sharks, but that doesn't keep me from wearing my headlamp occasionally during the daytime.
You never know when you're going to fall into an old well or abandoned outhouse or something.
My favorite light at the moment (I admit to being fickle on these things) is called a Stylus Streamlight. It's the size of a pencil. I carry mine in my pocket.
If there's ever been a handier light (you simply press a button the size of a pencil eraser) to look for black-widow spiders in new boots, I haven't found it.
Be charitable, please.
There are worse obsessions.
END
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Not a chance.
Some obsessions must remain forever hidden. They might land me in jail, where I probably should have found refuge long ago.
Like Mark Twain, I have spent a good deal of my time on earth "wavering between pulpit and penitentiary."
Some obsessions must remain forever hidden. They might land me in jail, where I probably should have found refuge long ago.
Like Mark Twain, I have spent a good deal of my time on earth "wavering between pulpit and penitentiary."
Garvey,
You don't know me, but I ran across your blog while searching for my brother's (our last name is Winegar too). This post had me laughing really hard. Not just because it was funny but because you sound exactly like my dad... you must be some distant relative or something and there must be something in the Winegar blood. I think my dad might have you beat on flashlights though.
By the way, how many pocket knives do you own?
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You don't know me, but I ran across your blog while searching for my brother's (our last name is Winegar too). This post had me laughing really hard. Not just because it was funny but because you sound exactly like my dad... you must be some distant relative or something and there must be something in the Winegar blood. I think my dad might have you beat on flashlights though.
By the way, how many pocket knives do you own?
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