Satan Attacks Nice People by Providing Volunteer Opportunities
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Those of you without the Spirit of Volunteerism have absolutely no idea of what you're missing. Unless of course you've been the recipient of particularly virulent curse. Two recent examples will illustrate my point.
[Note: this is a rambling post, but tough, I've been called in to jail guard after about three hours of sleep, on New Years Day, I'm entitled to ramble.]
The Great Yakutat Bird Count
Two days ago I showed up at our local Forest Service office where I am a sometime employee. This was so I could participate in the 105th Annual Something-To-Do-With-Audubon Bird Count. Now, I volunteered for this activity because it's good to find excuses to be out of doors during the winter, and I genuinely enjoy the company of the Forest Service folks.
Now, remember that this is the "Christmas Bird Count," and it's been going on for over a century. My personal theory is that a bunch of bird watchers got together early in the twentieth century over some really strong eggnog, and began whining about the fact that no one in their right mind goes out in the snow to admire the avian wildlife, at least nobody without a shotgun.
This is the scene I imagine in a long ago Audubon clubhouse: "Say," said Non-Consumptive Bird Enthusiast #1, "we are all so bored this time of year, what with no sapsuckers, grackles, or moorhens to stare at. Maybe there is some excuse we can contrive to get our friends and wives outside with us to watch whatever birds haven't frozen to death."
"That is a swell idea," said Non-Consumptive Bird Enthusiast #2. "Except of course, that all of our friends are here in this room, and I for one don't have a wife."
"Funny," said Bird Geek #1, "now that you mention it, I don't think any of us have wives. Huh."
"I think that's fantastic idea! You should put out a call for civic minded volunteers and have them count and categorize all the birds in the area. Noting the birds' locations would also be a great help!" Said Bill the Delivery Boy, who was just stopping by on his rounds to drop of a mail order copy of Men Who Love Birds, and the Women Who Don't Know They Exist. Bill was planning to do some duck hunting that weekend and thought it would be pretty helpful to know where the ducks were this season.
Flashback to the December 30th 2004.
So, there I was in the meeting room, looking forward to a day roaming the countryside with one of my coworkers in a toasty warm truck looking for examples of our splendid wildlife in the sprawling Alaskan outdoors. I started to worry that this vision wasn't to be fulfilled when I noticed that there was an odd number of volunteers around the table- someone would be partner-less. And someone would have to stay in the village to count the hylophobic birds. I volunteered for the job- Satan was whispering in my ear.
So most of the rest of the day was spent throwing bread to crows (cheating?), waiting for a couple of diving birds to surface long enough to match their markings to one of the hundreds and hundreds of pictures in the field guide book, and trying to decide what sort of bird what later turned out to be a Styrofoam crab pot float was.
There also was no warm toasty truck as I had imagined, just me on foot in 8°F weather. I had never realized before that ice forming in one's beard could effectively cement one's mouth shut. There are people on this planet who would have paid good money to have seen me with my mouth frozen closed. (You know who you are!)
Why I don't Like My Neighbor So Much Anymore
I'm proposing, right now, an amendment to the Alaska State Constitution making it illegal for any promise made in summer to be binding in winter. A classic case in point involves my next door neighbor "K," who is spending over half of the year away at college working on his masters degree so that he can be a highly paid professional that doesn't feel obligated to volunteer for things.
In our delightful, balmy summer this year just past, I foolishly volunteered to shovel the snow that fell from K's roof from the yard on the other side of his house. (Satan wants nice people to be good neighbors to punish them.)
It seems that "K" recently raised his house to two stories, meaning that the snow that used to fall pretty close to his wall now goes sailing through space into the adjacent yard. (Please note, that the snow that falls on my side of his roof just creates a small glacier, as I don't have time to remove that snow pack too.
Now I have always thought that "K" was a pretty swell guy- but that was when it was easy to think so. Then came a recent single day and 11½ inches of wet, heavy snow.
So armed with a dented aluminum snow shovel, I promptly gave up. Then I went to the hardware store and bought a $350 "snow thrower." This is small electric device for flinging snow. It runs off of an extension cord.
Men who buy wimpy electric power tools are not allowed to have tools called by more manly names like "snow blower," reserved for gas powered devices.
During two hours of foot numbing snow-extraction, I had to endure the comment by a man out walking his pet llamas, that my snow thrower was "cute."
So, in order to volunteer to be free slave labor, it only cost me two hours of back-breaking labor, some minor humiliation, the possible loss of some toes and $350.
Next week I'm doing some volunteer work for the Parks Board. Do I smell brimstone?
[Note: this is a rambling post, but tough, I've been called in to jail guard after about three hours of sleep, on New Years Day, I'm entitled to ramble.]
The Great Yakutat Bird Count
Two days ago I showed up at our local Forest Service office where I am a sometime employee. This was so I could participate in the 105th Annual Something-To-Do-With-Audubon Bird Count. Now, I volunteered for this activity because it's good to find excuses to be out of doors during the winter, and I genuinely enjoy the company of the Forest Service folks.
Now, remember that this is the "Christmas Bird Count," and it's been going on for over a century. My personal theory is that a bunch of bird watchers got together early in the twentieth century over some really strong eggnog, and began whining about the fact that no one in their right mind goes out in the snow to admire the avian wildlife, at least nobody without a shotgun.
This is the scene I imagine in a long ago Audubon clubhouse: "Say," said Non-Consumptive Bird Enthusiast #1, "we are all so bored this time of year, what with no sapsuckers, grackles, or moorhens to stare at. Maybe there is some excuse we can contrive to get our friends and wives outside with us to watch whatever birds haven't frozen to death."
"That is a swell idea," said Non-Consumptive Bird Enthusiast #2. "Except of course, that all of our friends are here in this room, and I for one don't have a wife."
"Funny," said Bird Geek #1, "now that you mention it, I don't think any of us have wives. Huh."
"I think that's fantastic idea! You should put out a call for civic minded volunteers and have them count and categorize all the birds in the area. Noting the birds' locations would also be a great help!" Said Bill the Delivery Boy, who was just stopping by on his rounds to drop of a mail order copy of Men Who Love Birds, and the Women Who Don't Know They Exist. Bill was planning to do some duck hunting that weekend and thought it would be pretty helpful to know where the ducks were this season.
Flashback to the December 30th 2004.
So, there I was in the meeting room, looking forward to a day roaming the countryside with one of my coworkers in a toasty warm truck looking for examples of our splendid wildlife in the sprawling Alaskan outdoors. I started to worry that this vision wasn't to be fulfilled when I noticed that there was an odd number of volunteers around the table- someone would be partner-less. And someone would have to stay in the village to count the hylophobic birds. I volunteered for the job- Satan was whispering in my ear.
So most of the rest of the day was spent throwing bread to crows (cheating?), waiting for a couple of diving birds to surface long enough to match their markings to one of the hundreds and hundreds of pictures in the field guide book, and trying to decide what sort of bird what later turned out to be a Styrofoam crab pot float was.
There also was no warm toasty truck as I had imagined, just me on foot in 8°F weather. I had never realized before that ice forming in one's beard could effectively cement one's mouth shut. There are people on this planet who would have paid good money to have seen me with my mouth frozen closed. (You know who you are!)
Why I don't Like My Neighbor So Much Anymore
I'm proposing, right now, an amendment to the Alaska State Constitution making it illegal for any promise made in summer to be binding in winter. A classic case in point involves my next door neighbor "K," who is spending over half of the year away at college working on his masters degree so that he can be a highly paid professional that doesn't feel obligated to volunteer for things.
In our delightful, balmy summer this year just past, I foolishly volunteered to shovel the snow that fell from K's roof from the yard on the other side of his house. (Satan wants nice people to be good neighbors to punish them.)
It seems that "K" recently raised his house to two stories, meaning that the snow that used to fall pretty close to his wall now goes sailing through space into the adjacent yard. (Please note, that the snow that falls on my side of his roof just creates a small glacier, as I don't have time to remove that snow pack too.
Now I have always thought that "K" was a pretty swell guy- but that was when it was easy to think so. Then came a recent single day and 11½ inches of wet, heavy snow.
So armed with a dented aluminum snow shovel, I promptly gave up. Then I went to the hardware store and bought a $350 "snow thrower." This is small electric device for flinging snow. It runs off of an extension cord.
Men who buy wimpy electric power tools are not allowed to have tools called by more manly names like "snow blower," reserved for gas powered devices.
During two hours of foot numbing snow-extraction, I had to endure the comment by a man out walking his pet llamas, that my snow thrower was "cute."
So, in order to volunteer to be free slave labor, it only cost me two hours of back-breaking labor, some minor humiliation, the possible loss of some toes and $350.
Next week I'm doing some volunteer work for the Parks Board. Do I smell brimstone?
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I'm happy to see you got over Christmas. (Except, did you notice? It was the 'Christmas' bird count that you enjoyed so much.) And as always, I notice you aren't a bit bitter. Good job!
It's about that time of the year again! I found a good place to get the yardman snow blower for cheap... But there are times of the year that I think it would just be easier to live in Florida.
It's about that time of the year again! I found a good place to get the snow blower for cheap... But there are times of the year that I think it would just be easier to live in Florida.
Cool website! Good work. Good resources here. Very nicely done. I will be back!
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spaghetti alla carbonara
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