Safety First

Safety, safety, safety.  This is something that I cannot stress enough.  Machines are mean and are NEVER to be trusted.  If you don't believe me, just scroll through the internet one day.  Machines break, cut, disembowel, and kill people.  Jesh, that sounds so harsh.  But the truth is the truth and hiding from the truth only gets you dumb.  There, I stated that nicely. When working with machinery the first and most important safety skill to observe every minute of every day is PAY ATTENTION.  Accidents are accidents and they always happen in the blink of any eye but this does not excuse your attention level.  PAY ATTENTION!

Other safety measures are learned over time and experience.  Blisters are not signs of strength and durability.  Chicks don't dig scars when they remove an eye.  Artificial limbs may have come a long way in recent years, but a real leg is always better. Broken toes cannot be fixed and as the body ages, the toes become stiff and rigid, making shoes uncomfortable and flip-flops not possible.

Nothing is more comfortable than an old broken into, molded to you, pair of ......  The best pants are about to blow out in the knee, the thigh, or the famous crotch stitching.  Shoes are most comfortable right before they develop holes in the toes.  And gloves, gloves are best when they become your second skin.  Unfortunately, this happens at the same time the briar mesquite thorn pokes through and the material rips along the thumb line.

As the inevitable will come, the best safety means will need replacing and the new sucks!  The gloves are stiff, the boots leave blisters, and the pants rub against the inner thigh.  Moaning, complaining, and band-aid usage will take place for a few weeks.  Then one day, the boots will be scuffed and pliable, pants will be soft and stained, and gloves will have molded from days of sweaty hands.

Like I said, accidents are accidents and all the safety measures, attention, and precautions won't keep your hand being smashed on the tractor steering wheel from the broken branch that fell from the tree.  Notice, there are no cuts or scrapes on the hand.  That would be from the glove protection.  So when working with machinery, remember to wear your safety glasses, gloves, boots, and protective pants, shirts.  It could be the difference between life and death.

Shitty Choices

We eat. All of us. If you don't eat, then you better get to reading, cause you're not gonna be here long. And we love to eat. Grab some fast food stats and you will be floored at the amount of crap we shove down our gullets. And here's the kicker, everything that goes in, sooner or later must come out. The average human poops 128 grams per day or about 4.5 ozs. Now I would speculate that in a country as well fed as we are that number might be a bit higher. Either way, 4.5 ozs/day x 325 million Americans x 365 days a year equals 33 billion pounds of poop a year. That's a shit-ton of poop a year, literally.


Somewhere along the bumpy road to "civilization", we decided (at least in America) that dealing with your excrement in any way is "not my problem". We hire people for that shit. Plumbers are on speed dial to wrangle turds at 2am, processing plants handle the millions of gallons of the stuff running down hill, honey dippers pump your septic, and attendants at the old folks home wipe Grandpa's ass. We love stuffing it in the front end, but hell no we aren't touching it in the back end. And that's the crux of it. People don't want to admit their biologically no different that the dog squatting in the backyard. Especially when it comes to the biologically unappealing parts. So we have evolved the "shit it and forget it" waste system.

When using a modern conventional bathroom, once it flushes you wave goodbye and forget about. Ask any potty training toddler and they'll tell you how it works. But that convenience of flush and forget has a huge environmental cost, especially in the water usage. The modern low flush toilet uses 1.6 gallons per flush with many older units using as much as 7 gallons per flush. Even worse, the majority of homes use clean drinking water to flush. That's a whole other level of stupidity that sends me into orbit. See our water debacle post.

So you want to be more environmentally conscience? You live in Texas? Yes, even Austin is in Texas. Then you can, but only to a limit. You can buy low flushing toilet. You can even buy ultra low flushing toilets. "Hey, how about a no flushing toilet? I want to use a composting toilet," you say. Well, you can. Just not if you want to be legal in most of the state. (Yes, for all you Hipsters, Austin has allowed composting toilets. There are very strict restrictions, however. So forget about a homebuilt wheelie bin toilet.) In fact, in large portions of the state, especially rural portions, the only code compliance that exists is verifying that you have installed a county authorized waste disposal system. That is to say, a "septic system".

That brings me to Plan473. We (me the Planner, the wife, the kid, and the 40lb dog) have been living in RVs short of 6 years. Living in an RV is mostly like living in a crappy house that you can tow. There are often things to fix and when it rains they leak. The one big difference is the toilet facilities. The black water system requires a certain amount of attentiveness to work hassle free. What you put in it affects how it performs. Too much paper and poop, it stops up. Too little water, aka pee, and it stops up. Leave the drain open all the time, the water runs off leaving poop and it stops up. If the toilet seal leaks or the roof vent doesn't vent, then you get a stinky trailer. The good news is, with just a tiny amount of effort and a small amount of water (1/4 cup a flush) these systems work like a champ. You just have to be willing to take a proactive stance on poop.

If your willing to put in the necessary time and energy, then a composting toilet system is a perfect solution. No water, no expensive equipment to buy, low maintenance cost and all the rich humanure we can use for the upcoming garden. Perfect for us. The downside, they are perfectly illegal.

In this county, that leaves mound systems and aerobic systems. Both are expensive to install, require professional installation and yearly maintenance, and county approval and inspection. Say "To hell with the county, I'll just bootleg a system!" Then forget about getting a permit for electricity. The county won't release electrical permits until an approved septic system is permitted. The reason cited: public safety!  So even though I'm willing to use an unconventional toilet, and have been in the RV for some time, my plans are rejected for the safety of the public. Nevermind that I know where at least two faulty "approved" systems are located. (My dog likes to visit one occasionally for a quick dip in the pool of perfume.)

The Fun Times

It seems as though as it is all work and no play and that is just not true. There has been lots of fun times at Plan473 too.

The yodeling dog.  If we owned ten thousands acres to roam around, she would be found day after day at 10,001 acres.  To keep her from roaming away while working, she is tied to the tree or left in the car, depending upon the heat and length of stay.  If tied, she barks.  If caged, she yodels. She is unpleaseable.

Halloween.  Yes, the kid went as a special delivery package.  Drama included, free with no additional charge.  No returns, no exceptions. Apparently, for the kid, walking without the ability to freely move ones arms causes one to fall down, face first.  Let me tell you, watching him fall, face first was the funniest damn thing ever.  I know, bad parent, bad parent.  BUT IT WAS SO FUNNY!  He just layed there, face first, unable to get up, unable to roll over, unable to do anything but pick his head up and yell at me.  And oh, yell he did.  He probably would still be mad at me for laughing at him, except I picked him up (which was very difficult by the way) and told him that was the best thing ever, EVER!, and kissed his little nose.  Awwww, good parent.  (Just between you and me, still laughing at him, especially while trying to write this post!!!!) Eventually he got the hand of walking without normal arm movements and was seen tossing hula-hoops.  Hee, hee, hee.... Still funny.....

Pelute (pay-loo-tay), the neighbors dog.  Isn't he the cutest thing ever?  At our arrival he comes running, full steam ahead, straight to us.  Tail wagging, body quivering, happy little greeter.  Just so long as you ignore him.  Yes, ignore him.  The moment he is acknowledge: vamanos, sayonara, adios, he is gone.  No hola, no petting, nothing.  Strange little dog.

Kid in a box. What's the best kid toy ever?  A box. Everybody knows that.  And if the box is big enough for mom to fit into, well then, it is a box worth having.  The box was immediately modified to the kid's heart desire.  There are hand drawn sailboats on the inside walls, a window strong enough to place a plant on the windowsill (little engineer boy designed it with bracing) and a locking door from both the inside and the out. Image what he could do with a fridge sized box?

Claymen.  It's a little early for snow here in the coastal bend and the kid got tired of waiting, so he made a clayman.  Unbeknownst to his artistic skills, once made, these claymen hardened with the heat and are now breakable. And if you wondering to his facial expression, then don't.  Getting a normal kid picture does not happen.  He is a total goof!

Critter prints.  From the same clay the kid used to create claymen, he discovered hardened critter prints several days later.  If lead to believe by the kid, these prints were caused by space critters, godzilla, or things of that nature.  Not something as simple as a raccoon, a fox, or a rabbit.  Nope.  Not gonna happen.  Space critters.  Yup, space critters, he saw them.

Magnetic rulers.  Don't know what evil genius created a magnetic ruler, but the crown should be thrust upon his head.  We are building with and working on metal shipping containers.  Do you have any idea how great this magnetic ruler will be in the measuring processes?  When this was discovered at the local box store it was a total impulse buy.  And you know what?  It reaches all the way to 25' all by its magneticself.  Hot dog!  Magnetic rulers.  Almost as great as magnetic drivers.

Family time.  This was the D-Day Eve.  See, no stress.  And you wonder why the kid never has normal pictures......

It's Just a Roll-off Job

D-Day.  It wasn't good then and I didn't anticipate it being good today either.  The unloading of the first shipping container has been a source of stress for everyone in various levels.  Weeeeeell, that might be a stretch.  I was stressing it, the Planner's dad (the Worrier) is helping and stressing, so inadvertently it is stressing the Planner.  The box has been sitting on the trailer for the last week taunting me.  It's so much taller and longer and more complex when sitting on its perch overlooking its kingdom.  Every day since its arrival from big city #1, the removal process has been cussed, discussed, and cussed so more.  The only thing left to do it actually remove it. 

Preparation and practice for the removal process went as well as expected last week in big city #1.  So I was told, I wasn't there so I have my doubts.  Brackets were made to assist in the transition down the trailer (not off and over the side like I see it in my head), piping was brought to help roll container along the trailer bed so as to not drag along the railing and decking, high lift jacks were brought and used, and heavy duty ramps were made from heavy truck frame channels to guide the container off the trailer onto to ground.  Sounds like things were well thought out.

Of course, things went smoothly because the planner does well under high stress situations.  Not me.  I tried to drink my weight in diet drink.  If I coulda, I woulda just inserted an IV of diet drink straight into my veins. Having to hold the 44oz cup with straw was too much damn work.  But don't worry, the planner sucked down his beloved "Nectar of the gods" just as fast as could manage and the helper could be seen drinking his tiny little 12oz bottle as time allowed.  When viewing the 10,000 pictures taken and GoPro video recorded, the Worrier looked the calm, cool, and collected.  Like this crazy act was a walk in the park.  "Sheeeet, back in my day...."  Yeah, that is exactly what the Worrier's' face said.  "Sheeeeet".

And much to my dismay and stress, the removal went fairly well.  There was only one moment of total stupidity, an act of idiocy, an "I can't believe we did that!" resulting in the forgotten moment of such a simple step.  It was a total Homer Simpson palm to the face moment. What's worse, this temporary lapse in repetitive action had nothing to do with the container at all. Later, after all, was said and done did the severity of what could have happened from this forgotten moment settle in.   During the discussion, they laughed at the level of calm in which I stated this forgotten moment so it could be rectified.  IMMEDIATELY.  See, that's the thing. The Planner does well planning, and I excel at in the moment situations.  But boy howdy, let me tell you, afterwards, I always suffer from an extreme adrenaline rush. The retrospect of this moment made my stomach cramp.  Good thing, that crap only lasts no more than a couple of minutes.

I can admit when I am wrong, and hindsight is 20/20.  However, the next box will be unloaded without the help and with that comes a whole new level of stress.  But don't worry, I got a plan.  Two diet drinks!

Haven't Got the Power

Last Friday the Planner and the kid purchased a power pole from an approved seller.  An approved seller, what is that you ask?  According to the only local power supplier (the company who owns all the power lines) in this area, the power pole must built using pre-approved components to their exact specifications.  To our luck, the poles can be bought from an approved seller and installed yourself.  The assembled pole comes with the correct electrical meter box for your desired amperage, pole heights, wiring thickness, and poles are as straight as an arrow.  NOT!

Let's just say, a positive side to the purchased pole was the ability to purchase it locally.  Apparently, the requirement for the pole to be straight was not a priority.  With limited approved sellers available, there are very little price negotiations, quality control, or product comparison or selection.  These sellers don't have to stand behind the product. You get what you get and you don't throw a fit.

With the use of the borrowed tractor, the pole was installed in one of the two approved power company suggested locations.  The installation was easy enough.  Dig a hole to correct depth, install pole, and fill and pack hole.  Easy peasy.  A hole was dug, the pole was installed, secured in place and was as straight as an arrow.  NOT!  Somewhere, the instructions should have said, "install pole straight as an arrow".  Oh well, so it leans a little to left, no right, no front, no back.  Huh, guess that depends on your perspective when looking at the pole.  Mmm, could always say it was done by the power company.  There's don't look any better and they have the proper equipment and more workers.

The power line workers arrived, the line was run to our pole and viola, the pole now doesn't lean.  Never knew electricity weighed so much.  Don't get me wrong, the pole is still crooked, but its crookedness is straight with the world.  Now if there was just something to power.....

Suspension Moves

Last week the turbo malfunctioned leaving the truck running off prime.  It would drive itself at regular speeds, but could not, would not haul a load.  Parts were ordered to replace the worn out turbo, another trip to big city #1 was made and several hours later with the help of a friend or two, the truck was back in one piece.  Taking advantage of the situation by being in the big city #1, and after much discussion by those in the know, it was decided moving the trailer suspension (42") forward would help carry the shipping container load more evenly.  Apparently, the truck was carrying more than it should have been causing the strain that lead to the turbo craping out. Besides, friends were willing to help in the endeavor.  So, why not, it's just a little cutting, drilling, welding and presto, a better riding trailer.  But hey, what do I know?

Well, the truck was fixed, the trailer was fixed, and the shipping container was still on the floor. Forklifts are a great invention.  Did you know all shipping containers are moved around and placed up to six unit highs at these yards with one little ol' forklift? Watching these containers being moved is an impressive sight to see.  No, these friends did not have one of these forklifts, they had the standard forklifts found in every corner shop.  Three forklifts to lift the box up while the trailer is backed under and the container is ready for hauling.

But wait, what's that?  The friends think removing the container for practice would be fun.  Well, sure.  Why didn't I think of that? The removal process, while it seems simple enough on paper, is causing some great stress.   Any preparation for the real production is fine by me, especially since I am not there.  Practice removal used just the truck and trailer and tractor. Nothing more, nothing less. Practicing with equipment that won't be available on D-Day wouldn't be practicing, it would be playing.  I was told everything went well with the practice session.  Guess I will find out soon enough being that D-Day is next weekend. Sensing my stress, a friend has volunteered to help with removal of the first shipping container. The process of removing a 40' shipping container from a flatbed 36' trailer with the use a few simple tools and a tractor is probably not done often.  The friend either didn't want to miss out, really wanted to help, or wanted to be present when things went wonky and used me as an excuse.  Fine by me!  See you in a week.

Here's to hoping the removal goes as easy as I was told it did.

Shipping a Shipping Containter

Once again it was house divided.  The husband went to pick up the first shipping container in big city #2 at dark-thirty, the kid went to grandmas for the day sometime later while still dark-thirty, and I went to work just as the first light began to show.  Sometimes, going our separate ways is the for the best. Multiple things can be accomplished and it allows everyone some time for their own thoughts. Everybody needs some time alone.

All was going well until the phone rang. You know what I am talking about, right?  That moment when you can feel the change about to happen in your stomach, the catch in your breath, the prickle at the back of your neck. The tension caused by this moment pushes you to answer the phone with a "Hello, what's wrong" but courtesy only allows the simple, unobtrusive "Hello".

Apparently, what should have been a straight three hour trip from big city #2 to big city #1 turned into a five-hour grueling test of the wills.  Have you ever been to the same big city more than once?  Notice how the roads are always under construction?  Always, not sometimes or occasionally for brief repairs, always! I'm talking about permanent concrete divider construction because once the highway is completed, it is outdated and construction starts all over again.  Yep, I knew you'd understand.  Construction, traffic with a 40' trailer, and headwinds. Any winds when pulling a trailer are bad.  This is such the case there are roads with official signs warning drivers about cross winds. So image what pulling a shipping container 9'6" tall on a trailer with a deck height of 38" against never ending headwinds would be like? Yes, your are correct, the Great Wall of China.  Ugh.  It's pretty sad when being passed by full sized trucks pulling 53' trailers loaded down with products up to a hill. Thinking maybe the F350 is not enough truck to handle this process.  But wait, the man the trailer was purchased from hauled containers to and from drill sites all across Texas.  If his can do it, so can mine.  Maybe.

Then again, maybe not, as the phone rang again not two hours later. "Hello", I say calmly pushing panic aside. After clearing big city #2 and its surrounding miles of suburbia and was heading through no man's land when trouble arose again in the form of turbo malfunctioning. It wasn't so bad that it kept the truck from running, it was that it kept the truck from running anything faster than 45miles per hour.  On a good moment, on the downward side of a hill, speeds could be reached up to 60mphs.  Fairly confident truckers were laughing as they speed by. A nap was needed to refresh, but the big city #1 was finally reached, truck, trailer, container, and one very tired driver.

No news is good news in my book.  Ring, ring goes the phone. Squelch, squelch goes the stomach.  This time all niceties were forgotten.  "Are you safe?  Is everything ok?, Do I need to come get you?" Okay, so I don't know how I would have easily gotten to no man's land between big city #2 and big city #1 but I would have packed up the kid, the dog, and the beep-beep and been out the door in ten minutes.  This phone just called to tell me I'd be sleeping alone. Whew! Gosh, what a relief.  It was a long day for all.

Here's the thing about mornings, problems from the night before tend to look better. This may have not been the view from big city #1 but it was my view.  Yeah, it was an awesome morning. The turbo was removed and taken to a diesel mechanic where it was inspected and returned with instructions on how to replace the worn out parts. Since the truck was driveable, so long as no races were being run, the trailer and container were left in the big city #1.  Parts will be ordered over the weekend and next week the turbo will be replaced.  Thank goodness for YouTube, friendly mechanics who specialize in Ford diesel, and friends with a shop full of all tools needed to complete this massive undertaking. At this rate, the entire truck will be replaced one part at a time and a whole new truck will be in its place.  Ahhh, if only it were that simple.  Remind me to tell you about Daddy's Red Truck.  I will save that post for a day when there is nothing happening.  Haha, nothing happening. Who knew I had a sense of humor?