Failed

We have no control over when we are born, where we are born, who we are born to and the why is anyone’s guess. I was one of the lucky ones; I was born to white, middle class parents in North America during the early fifties. It just doesn’t get any better than that.

Yes, I was a baby boomer, the generation born with silver plated spoons in their mouths and a life that just seemed to get better and better each and every year. Sure we had some political issues that were more than a little bit frightening at times, but for the most part those problems solved themselves in other countries with virtually no input from Canada at all. We had the best childhood anyone could imagine growing up with parents that for the most part had good jobs, a bright future and a pretty safe environment to be raised in. Our music was just amazing and forty to fifty years later it is still relevant and entertaining. Life was and is good.

I was lucky enough to be something of a hippie in my late teens and early twenties. I just missed the real age of love by a few years, but I did catch the tail end of it. I was able to smoke grass when it was inexpensive and not nearly as strong as it is now. We were able to get a good buzz but still be able to function in the world. My friends and I were part of this generation and what marked us apart from other generations is that we challenged the way society worked or didn’t work. We protested against governments, corporate greed and vowed the world would be a different place when we took the reins of power.

I wasn’t alone, I had many friends that believed the same as I did and saw the world for what it was. We weren’t going to be sucked into becoming capitalistic cogs, greasing the wheels of corporate greed. We would treat others with kindness and love, making sure that all had the same opportunities we were born with. The world could be changed and would be changed in our lifetime. This was the Age of Aquarius after all, wasn’t it?

Sure, there were some that would fall into the same life of money grubbing that our parents and their friends did, but not my friends. Oh, there was one or two who decided that money was a necessary commodity to effect change and that is well. After all, there is room for everyone in a perfect world.

Fast forward fifty years and although there have been significant changes; the world is much the same. The politicians are in the business of politics to get re-elected, the corporate world is bigger and more powerful than ever, controlling what we buy and how we buy it. The music is still here, but those people we had faith in were just music businessmen for the most part and wrote songs that sold in their market to the demographic they aimed at.

My friends for the most part have been swallowed up by this world we live in. We have become mailmen, businessmen, doctors, lawyers, factory workers and retail sales people. We are all conspicuous consumers, buying the latest cameras, computers and big screen TV’s. We have big houses in the suburbs and look to retirement for a well earned rest. I listen to my friends on facebook and elsewhere complaining about the immigrants who are living in squalor and taking jobs that Canadians could have. They are blaming others for the state the country has gotten itself into. My friends elect the big business party so they will protect what they have worked so hard for. If they raise minimum wage, our coffees will cost ten cents more and when we buy dinner it might be 5% more than it is now. That’s bullshit! We don’t need more understanding; we need more police and more jails to put the ne’er do wells into. You know those that want to take what is mine.

I love my friends and those that aren’t my friends, but I can’t help but wonder what happened to us and how did we lose the path we were following. I don’t know…I just hope the next generation can do a better job than we did. We tried and for the most part…failed.

Greasy All The Time

I grew up in Toronto Ontario and lived there until my mid-twenties. I moved out west and after a few years moved back to Ontario to be close to family for the kids. The only problem was that not only were we two thousand miles away from the part of the country we fell in love with, but we were close to family! We eventually solved our dilemma by moving back out west, but not until the kids got to know and love their extended family.

That was a lifetime ago now and southern Ontario has ceased to be a home and is now a vacation destination. People and places remain the same even though they are continuously changing, that is just how life is.

Having grown up here I feel entitled to voice my opinions on the state of affairs and criticize the residents about how they allowed my birthplace to get into such a pickle. Somehow they allowed the population to grow like a cancer and have paved over many places that should have remained unpaved. That's progress I suppose. I'm not happy about it but since I was never asked my opinion and don't pay taxes or vote here I should shut my mouth. There is still enough that is the same that I can be nostalgic just looking out a car window.

I am aware that there is climate change even though our government refuses to acknowledge it at all. When it came time to pack for our trip I figured I had it all planned out perfectly, half of the suitcase for warm weather and the other half for cool weather. In the unlikely event that the weather turned cold I could just dress in layers and limit my outside time. I did bring some gloves and toques but have used them for packing more than anything else. Well, I probably should have packed 75%-25% warm to cold clothes. I had forgotten to factor in humidity which calls for fewer clothes. A guy can't remember everything...

Twenty year old Ken would wear his jeans in all kinds of weather and would rarely be caught in shorts. I don't know if the heat didn't affect me or if I was just too stupid to wear proper clothing. I suspect that was 25%-75%. I also didn't figure in the "weight" of cloth used in western Canadian clothing as opposed to eastern Canadian clothing. The west is heavier and therefore just a little warmer. I have some thin shirts, but they are more worn out than specifically designed to keep me cool. Sadly, the glue and paint stains precluded their use on this trip.

On the plus side, my skin has regained an elasticity that has been missing for many years. I no longer have "tissue paper" like skin on my arms and the inside of my nostrils remain for the most part moist. I don't know how much moisture I can take before black mould begins to form in the dark, damp places on my body. I'm beginning to have some concerns about my underwear and my hair feels greasy all of the time. The hair on my head!

Too soon I will be back in the western steppes of Canada where those northwest winds strip the moisture from anything that is foolish enough to be exposed.

How Awful Traffic Can Be

Travelling is a life style and it is something that you like, something you endure or something you avoid at all costs. My feelings towards travelling fall somewhere in between the last two.

You can't experience those wondrous things that are offered in exotic locals from the comfort of your living room couch. Seeing the Tower of London in a photo or on a TV show just isn't the same as when you are standing in front of it looking up. You miss the impact a solid structure gives you, you miss the sense of history that emanates from the stones at your feet.

To see four heads that have been carved from the stone at the top of a mountain on a postcard is no big thing. When you have to drive miles through heavily forested country and then realize that thousands of men and machines laboured for years to create this monument. You stand perhaps a mile away and stare in awe at what had been accomplished in this remote location. Sometimes you wonder WHY?, but it is always impressive.

We are more than half way through our trip and have seen some wonderful things. We are in the section of our trip where people are replacing heads of dead presidents carved in stone. The people will have gotten a little greyer in skin and hair, somewhat thicker and gravity will have had its way with them over the years since last seen. I am also a little worse for the passage of time as well, but we look past the physical and see the wonderful people that have always been there for us. It is wonderful to reestablish those lines of thought and love that have connected us throughout the years.

Memories may be the only things that some of the people I meet will have in common. Others will just pick up the forty year old friendship like it had been just a day or two since we last talked. Some of the people I will regret not having kept in touch with and promises will be made to be better in the future. I may have a few more facebook friends to deal with next week. It will be fun.

For now, I am looking forward to getting through the next week of visiting and then that long...long...long drive home.

One of the wonderful things about travel for me is that I will get home with all sorts of ideas on how to live my life in a way that will please me more. I will have decorating ideas and be filled with an urge to feather my nest with some of those new ideas I just mentioned. I have ideas about crafty projects to tackle, redecorating that I have put off for far too long, and surprise, surprise, I think I am going to go home and purge some things that really need to be purged. It may take a while, but this time I think I will do it...probably.

Oh, and never again will I complain about the traffic jams in Calgary or how bad the drivers are. We just have no idea about how awful traffic can be.

Colfax Iowa

Okay...let me think, where am I? I know, Colfax Iowa. Colfax Iowa is about 20 miles east of Des Moines and thirty dollars less a night. We are at another Microtel and it is set up like the one in Rapid City, just a trifle smaller and plopped in the middle of nowhere.

I think I would shoot myself if I had to live around here. Actually, if you lived around here there is a very good chance that someone would be more than willing to shoot you. Even before we checked in, the lady behind the counter and a local woman were talking about the car chase that happened in town and surrounding area that day. The chase became too dangerous, so the cops called it off. That means that somewhere around here is a stolen truck filled with car thieves and quite possible religious fundamentalists.

The parking lot of the Microtel borders on a corn field just like the one in "Field of Dreams". It would be pretty cool to see a bunch of old timey ball players come out of the cornfield and into the parking lot to have a game of catch. Unfortunately, it is also like the cornfield in the movie "Children of the Corn". I am still having nightmares because of that one. I have the feeling the nightmare will be back tonight.

When I say we are in the middle of nowhere, that is unfair. Just up the secondary highway there is a McDonalds and a Subway. I was kind of hoping for more choice for dinner, but what are you going to do. We picked the Subway because, well, I don't really know. Maybe I thought that joy riding fundamentalists would be more likely to stop at McDonalds than a Subway. All I can say about the food is that I am looking forward to having lunch anywhere else tomorrow.

We drove mostly through a sky that threatened rain and sometimes made good on the threat today. This was a driving day so we didn't stop anywhere. There were a few places to stop, but nothing that really grabbed us. We are just pushing through to Cleveland area tomorrow and the following day we plan on visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Well, assuming the kids from the cornfield don't kill us during the night. 

Well, TV or book? Maybe I will go a little wild and try both for a change. 

I Have To Cross The City Again

So we are another day closer to death and another day closer to the drive home. I hope that the two of them don't happen anywhere close to each other. I still have decades of pension I plan to collect. I want the pension guys to come out every year on my birthday and make me prove that I am still alive. Let them earn their money.

I've mentioned that this trip is about family and friends, but it also seems to be about driving. I come from a sparsely populated area of the country and traffic is pretty light for the most part. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but I can be too as I have been told on more than one occasion. You learn to deal with rush hour and poor drivers as a small cross that you have to bear.

The traffic in a truly large city like Toronto, Chicago or Cleveland is absolutely insane. Especially here in Toronto. I have come to expect hordes of insane drivers zipping in one lane and out to another just as quickly. Everyone seems to be in a big hurry to get wherever they are going and are willing to die shaving five minutes off of the trip. We in Calgary have no idea what "rush hour" really means.

I come back to this area only every few years, so I get to see snapshots of the city traffic like an uncle or an aunt gets to see the niece and nephews grow before their eyes. Something really needs to be done to the traffic situation. I guess many somethings need to be done from expanded roadways, more, better and faster transit systems and social changes. People need to change the way cities are used. We need to alter work hours so that the "hour" in "rush hour" can be spread to incorporate all hours of the day. 

We need to rethink the way cities are built and have more people live and work in the same neighbourhoods. That should be relatively easy with the ability of many people to work online from home or a remote location. We still need people contact, but those people can and should be located within and easy commute. 

It won't be an easy solution and it would not be achieved over night and without some pain, but whatever can be done should be done and as fast s is possible. Preferably before I have to cross the city again.  

Travelling

Woke up just outside of Cleveland. How do I get myself into these things?

Breakfast, coffee, gas and a thirty minute drive to the Rock and Roll hall of fame. One more thing checked off the list of must do's.

Glad I did it but we were just too travel tired to enjoy it as fully as we shoud have. Next time.

We followed that with a nightmarish drive through the golden horseshoe at rush hour. I am travelling, not intelligently, just travelling.

The blogs may be hit or miss for the next few days or weeks. Read a good book, anything by Lee Child or Janet Evanovich will entertain.

Cleveland

I just finished a too long day of driving and can barely think straight. I know that my thinking can be a little bendy at all times, but today I have an excuse.

Not much to report about the drive other than it being a long haul. Pretty enough I suppose, but not a lot different than what you would find in Canada. If you are thinking about doing a trip like this, I would suggest you fly or get one of those rock and roll tour buses with a driver. Give him a bunch of money for gas and you can just stay home.

Cleveland is a dark place, but it should lighten up by morning.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!

Rapid City

So...if you happen to find yourself wandering around the highways and byways of middle America, you could do a lot worse than to be located in Rapid City SD. Specifically, you should locate yourself in a room at the Microtel. It is relatively inexpensive, the people are pleasant and there is coffee available 24/7. Yes, it is luke warm in the evenings, but there are micro wave ovens in the rooms. It isn't as nice as staying with relatives, but these people won't get as sick of you as fast as family does.

We took a day off of driving so that we could check out the attractions around here, specifically Deadwood and Mt Rushmore. There are lots of other things to do, but Louise can only drag me to a certain number of places before she begins to lose her will to live. There are caves with waterfalls, prehistoric graveyards, museums, hiking trails and a town that is home to four hundred thousand bikers one weekend (week) every year. There is also the other mountain that is being carved into the likeness of Crazyhorse on a horse (crazy!) but it is far from finished and we have seen too many construction projects on this trip already.

First we drove to Deadwood which is just up the I90 from where we are. It's your typical tourist town based on a gold rush and the violent death of Wild Bill Hickock. He was shot to death while playing poker. He had a pair of black aces and a pair of black eights which is now referred to as the deadman's hand. A lot of gamblers would kill for a hand like that. The town fathers decided that a fitting tribute to Deadwood's most famous resident would be to line the streets with small, crappy casinos. Nice...

I was told by someone that Mt Rushmore is a big letdown unless you see it from the air. Not having access to a small biplane or a helicopter, Louise and I paid our $11 and walked in like millions of others have over the years. It is wonderful! The view of the four president’s busts was excellent and we took plenty of pictures to prove it. On the way there, we pulled off the road and had a view of George Washington's profile. We could just barely make out two or three mountain goats that were walking on the top of his head. Just a little something special for us to remember.

I had had enough sightseeing by then and I suspect Louise had enough of me as well, so we headed back to our home away from home to enjoy a quiet evening recharging our energy and camera batteries.

Tomorrow should bring more driving adventures and by this time tomorrow we should be in Des Moines Iowa. Should be...

HoJo

Okay, another trip blog. You just have to read about it, I have to experience it 24/7...and pay for it.

Okay, I was telling you about the HoJo we stayed in last night. The reason we picked it was because it was cheap and at the end of a long driving day we figured we would just drop into bed and pass out, getting up early the next day for a quick "complimentary" breakfast and back on the road. I should mention that I read a few negative reviews about the place, but people who give negative reviews have a bone to pick...right? One of the reviews was that a woman complained the carpet was so sticky in the hall that she almost lost a sandal. I won't be wearing sandals so no problem.

We were checked in by Travis who looked like he was trying to go straight and give up the gang life, having only moderate success. We were given the key card and Louise went right into the bathroom and I took the three paces needed to cross the room. It was a real small room, but small is cozy, right. Louise had come out of the bathroom and mentioned that it was dirty. I noticed that the extra safety lock on the door was broken, perhaps as a result of a police drug or prostitution raid. It was about this time that the woman opened the door, having been given our room by Travis. We laughed and Travis called to apologize. All is forgiven.

We slept a little later than planned and when we got to the complimentary breakfast area at 9:11 we were told that breakfast ended at 9:00. No problem for us, but the woman with the three year old was pretty choked. I thought that the breakfast lady could have let the kid have a bowl of cereal or something, but rules are rules I suppose.

No sense hanging around, so Louise and I decided to check out right away and find some place that was still serving breakfast. I thought it would be best to do this in person just to make sure that Travis or the Dragon Lady hadn't padded the bill. The Dragon Lady asked us if our stay was pleasant and Louise mentioned that we would have like breakfast to be a little later, but what are you going to do. Louise then said that the toilet was dirty and the toilet paper roll was empty, but thankfully there was a spare on the back of the toilet. The Dragon Lady thanked Louise for telling her and said that too many people don't mention things and they can't fix the problem if they don't know there is a problem.

Hmmmmm...I would have thought that the first day in Hotel school they would have taught that leaving shit unflushed in the bowl and some hardened on the rim was a definite NO! Random shit in a hotel should be dealt with immediately because that kind of thing makes you think twice about staying at the next HoJo that you run across in your travels. Well, it does for me.

Well, we also saw the Little Bighorn site and Devils Tower. Both were beyond awesome!

Billings

So, here we are in a tiny room in the Billings Montana Howard Johnsons at 9:00PM.

The drive wasn't bad, we had a few laughs and radio for a good part of the trip. We did have to talk to each other every now and then, but it was mostly Louise telling me to pick one lane or panicking about the near head on collision. You know how women are. The scenery was mostly what we are used to seeing in Alberta, but knowing it was in the US made it different. About 35 cents on the dollar different.

We took a lot of pictures and I have every hope that I will remember what some of them are of when we get home. I have been keeping track of license plates and so far we have seen mostly Alberta and Montana plates. Tomorrow I expect we will see plates from South Dakota. Ahhhh...the wonders of travel.

We had just gotten into our room when we hear a keycard in the slot and the door opened to reveal a woman trying to get into her room. Apologies all around and thankfully she didn't get a good look at me in my underwear. No one deserves that! It turns out that the front desk guy, Travis, had timed the drugs incorrectly and gave this poor woman keys to our room. It will be interesting to see who climbs into bed with us in the middle of the night.

We had supper at a place called the Cracker Barrel which was just up the road from the HoJo. It is like an old fashioned general store only they had all sorts of touristy crap for sale. There was a big push on Halloween items which were pretty cute, but we could maybe get the same thing in Canada for less money. When we arrived, there must have been twenty old folks with canes sitting on rocking chairs i front of the store. I expected someone to bring out a banjo any time. Thankfully, the food was very good and I managed to stuff most of it in my mouth.

It turned out to be a tour group and those old farts were waiting for the old farts who were still taking up space in the store.

Anyways, good day and I am looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Sooner Rather Than Later

I was talking to my daughter that lives in Toronto the other day about our impending trip to visit her and others. I guess the catalyst for the journey is the 50^th reunion of my high school. More of an excuse than a catalyst I suppose. Any ways…during the conversation she mentioned how I hate my dog Buster. Whoa!!! 

“Who said I hate Buster?”

Maegan said that it came out when she was talking to Arwen the other day. I assured her that I don’t hate Buster now and have not hated him in the past. We continued our telephone visit and when I had time to think on my own I wondered how my lovely daughter could be so wrong.

I do remember a phone call during the last week that I talked to her about Buster, but I am pretty sure the word “Hate” didn’t come up. I was apologizing for foisting Buster on her and Brendan while I am away, even though I am aware that neither of them actually likes looking after Buster. He can be something of an asshole barking at anything that moves and some things that don’t move. He will inevitably piss on something that he shouldn’t piss on, but in his defence that is the only way he can get back at me for abandoning him. So far, he hasn’t ever bitten anyone, but if he does, it will be his last bite.

I think what may have caused some confusion is when I said that I wouldn’t be disappointed if he died. I would hope for a quick and painless death, but his being dead would make parts of my life just a trifle easier. The reason the kids have to look after him is that the kennel raised their rates by $10 per day and it would cost us over $700 for our trip. I would have been okay with $500, but that extra $200 was just too much to take. It isn’t as if he has ever earned a penny to contribute to his upkeep in all of the years he has been with us. He is the quintessential freeloader.

It has been pointed out to me that wishing for someone to die usually indicates extreme dislike of the individual. There is also the possibility that I could or would allow him to die without raising a hand to stop it. That just simply isn’t true! Well, I doubt I would give him mouth to mouth and I don’t think chest compressions would work. I have been tested and found wanting when during a choking incident I refused to administer the Heimlich manoeuvre. It turned out that my saying “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want a drink of water?” was pretty much useless. I don’t know what I could have done, there was no way I would put my fingers down his throat. His teeth are sharp, he eats meat, my fingers are meat and my momma didn’t raise no fool. Well, unless you count my brother.

Just to be clear, I DO NOT WANT BUSTER TO DIE. I might be anticipating and eagerly awaiting an early death, but I will not do anything to promote said death. In fact I will probably take him to the vets if he does get sick and I will seek treatment as long as it doesn’t cost too much. What’s too much? Well $700 is too much and $500 is borderline. I can’t really say until I am put in that position, but if I have any input, it will be sooner rather than later.

                                                     

Just Once

I envy the bastards of this world.

The bastards always think they are right and no matter what or who criticizes them they just shrug it off and go about their business of being a bastard. The problem is that we non-bastards will let the bastards get away with being bastards and often it is just easier for us to let them have their way.

Of course when this happens, the bastards are vindicated in the belief that they are always right and are the true leaders of humanity. Bastards!

I wonder what it feels like to think that you are always right. To not have the doubts that most of us have. To be sure that no matter what the situation is that you are involved in, the path you choose will lead you to safety and be the right path. If anything does happen to go wrong, the bastards will always blame it on someone else sticking their nose in and mucking up the perfect plan.

I will never know, because I tend to hesitate and wonder what would be best for everyone. Just once I would like to be one of the bastards. Just once I would like to be right. Just once…

Olduvai Gorge

To those three people who read the blog on a regular basis, I will be on the road for the next few weeks and I will be hit or miss with the blog. I suppose that I could have written a bunch in advance so that I wouldn’t miss a day, but I just didn’t feel like it. I don’t feel the need to not miss a day any longer and since it will only disappoint a few wonderful people, I will try to avoid the stress of meeting this deadline.

 

I can’t say that I am a good traveller, just ask Louise. For me, travelling to the library two blocks away is a good and exotic day for me. Yes, I do have some sort of problem and yes it may indeed be a mental deficiency of some sort. I think it happened when I was jumping off of the swing when I was a kid. It could have been when the horse knocked me down and began chewing on my ear. There was that time I was riding my bike home and I ran into the parked car. Perhaps one of the numerous beatings I suffered at the hands of my brother. I doubt that the drugs had any effect, but you just never know about those things. The list just seems to go on and on.

 

I’m just going to say it is more or less normal and in pretty much all other respects I am just another creepy, old guy drinking coffee at Tim’s. Louise intends to have fun on our travels, but I don’t know about that. If she truly wanted to have fun she would be much better off leaving me at home. I kid, it will be a good time and before you know it, I will be home and the trip will be a memory to think about while I am walking to the library.

 

I suppose that I should pack the essentials tomorrow or the next day. I always pack too much and forget the most important things. What makes them important is that they are at home and I have a need for them. Lucky for me this isn’t the 18^th century and I won’t be following the Nile to find Dr. Livingston for several months. I can’t imagine how disappointing that trip must have been. All that time and at the end of it was a scrungy old explorer and you would still have to retrace your steps to get back to civilization. What a waste of time!

 

If the human race had to rely on me for exploration they would still be stuck in the Olduvai Gorge or the Euphrates valley. I don’t plan on discovering anything of significance on our trip, but rumour has it that we will be seeing Mt. Rushmore and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Some old friends and memories will also be discovered.

That is far better than a dusty old doctor.

A Kind and Loving God

Yesterday a 27 year old father of a two year old was found murdered in his home. The two year old had been taken and three provinces were on Amber alert in hopes of finding Hailey Dunbar-Blanchette. Today her remains were found in a rural area outside of the town she and her dad lived in. The RCMP has a suspect in custody.

 

This scene has unfolded countless times over the years and will continue to be repeated as long as there are humans on the planet. I just can’t understand what motivates someone to this kind of anger. Hopefully, I will never understand it; I am just not wired to think that way. I am one of the meek and from what I understand, me and my kind are destined to inherit the earth. I can’t see that happening anytime soon. From my vantage point, it seems as if the bad guys are winning and for some reason they have the land titles for the earth.

There will be countless candle light vigils for little Hailey in churches all across the country, lamenting the loss of this special little child who hadn’t had a chance to live her life yet. Christians, Jews, Muslims and all the various sects that worship God in any of His manifestations will offer there prayers to the kind and loving God who decided that a two year old child needed to die a terrifying death.

He works in mysterious ways.

He is also something of an asshole!  

Little Balls of Fluff

Tomorrow, my buddy and I will be taking about six months of accumulated metal to the metal recycling place. My buddy has all of his neighbours trained to give him any unwanted metal items they may want to get rid of. He also has a son-in-law that has a father who does small engine repair and sometimes there are small engines that need to be junked. I generally don’t have much but this time I have an old dryer and an electric lawn mower that has trimmed its last blade of grass. Plus a few pounds of assorted metal from here and there. One of these days I will clean the garage and have a ton of metal to recycle.

We don’t do this for altruistic reasons, strictly for profit. Once we took it to the city landfill just to get rid of it and were charged about $50. The thing that hurt was we had to dump the metal in a Calgary Metal Recyclers bin. That was the last time. We don’t make a lot of money generally, just enough for a few coffees. The last time Ken had a lot of aluminium and copper wire which is worth top dollar. The best part of the trip is to watch the massive cranes grabbing a huge load of shredded metal and tossing it onto another huge pile of shredded metal. I would love to use the big electro magnet to pick up a car and then drop it from as high as I could. That would be awesome!

 

In preparation for tomorrow, I had to smash my dryer down as flat as I could. Lucky for me I have a huge cartoon type sledge hammer and some anger that I needed to deal with. You may or may not be surprised to learn that they make those dryers to be pretty sturdy. I wailed on it until I was sweating pretty hard and it would be difficult to determine what it was at first glance. We eventually called a truce. I stopped hitting it with the sledge and it would stop making me sweat.

 

I needed to take all of the plastic off and for the most part a hammer did the trick just nicely. I still had some anger. I took off the inner paddles which cause the drying clothes to bounce around inside the drum. Inside the paddles were voids which over the years had attracted tiny bits of lint. Those tiny bits of lint trapped inside the revolving drums eventually turned into little felt balls of varying size. When I first saw them I though they were little metal balls that had some mysterious purpose. I held them in my hand and marvelled at the perfect little balls.

I wondered if the Mongols discovered the felt they use to build their Urts. Of course they didn’t have huge electric dryers in the thirteenth century, but perhaps the principal behind my little felt balls and the houses of the Mongol hordes were the same. No…probably not.

 

It is kind of a weird idea though to think that little balls of fluff could have helped to conquer the ancient world and be responsible for the spread of civilization. 

Cool!