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throwpie

Trad climber
Berkeley
Nov 8, 2012 - 03:45pm PT
Serious Mouse and your cousin(?)
Credit: throwpie
throwpie

Trad climber
Berkeley
Nov 8, 2012 - 03:48pm PT
Nice kneepads
Credit: throwpie
throwpie

Trad climber
Berkeley
Nov 8, 2012 - 03:48pm PT
saddle up pardner
Credit: throwpie
neebee

Social climber
calif/texas
Nov 8, 2012 - 07:13pm PT
hey there say, ... more nice shares... the truck, throwpie and peggy lou (did i get the name right)... will check...

say ron:
as to your quote:

I USed to play "the lizard" on another forum.. I sought the cover of the rocks in which i would scan the meadowhood. The meadowhood is where the critters gathered and i the LIZARD kept guard duty over the hood- watchin for skally-wags and giving warning to the members of the hood. The lizard now watches for the Mouse


fun way with words, as to your lizard share, :)

glad you are out in the open here on the ol' taco, so we can share with you...
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 8, 2012 - 07:39pm PT
The Nutcracker on the day the turd below shouted imprecations at the trio of turds above and they shouted maledictions and threatened him with fingers and butts bared in their turn and then things got ugly.

That is Dolores' brother Marc Irwin. He had the enviable job of running the Palo Alto Factory Outlet for the Face. He was a solid 5.8 leader and champion clay courts tennis player at one time. Back in Sandy-cane Land and brokering stocks, married, an old slave like y'all.

That is my right knee, so it's padded for the simple reason I had the ACL surgery in February. This must be 1979. I look dorky serious. But you wore that god-awful black helmet!

Nice photos. Dude.
throwpie

Trad climber
Berkeley
Nov 8, 2012 - 08:34pm PT
I only wore the helmet for a bit. It was so I would look like someone in Mountain Magazine. The brits looked so cool.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 8, 2012 - 09:12pm PT
Yeah, they were someone to look at if not up to. I like to think we could have beat them at softball...
Tales of Brave Ulysses.
Tales of Brave Ulysses.
Credit: mouse from merced
Whillans, the Epitome of Hard:  The innocent looks of a Glen Dawson, t...
Whillans, the Epitome of Hard: The innocent looks of a Glen Dawson, the tenacity of Jack Black.
Credit: mouse from merced
The similarities are striking, but they are Rock and Ice.  We are Flam...
The similarities are striking, but they are Rock and Ice. We are Flames. No basis for comparison except looks, lifestyle, opinions, and we all could appreciate a shower on occasion.
Credit: mouse from merced
What's on down to the bridge, guv? 'ow's Tom?
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 12, 2012 - 04:14am PT
I've just put on the counter a plateful of really awful food involving fried cheese. I'm disgusted. I'm usually better than that. It must be the Niners getting tied by the Rams today. It reminds me that I'm sick to death of watching old vids of awful jokes delivered by John Cleese.

It's time to tell of cuisine at Apathy House and in the Black Cave and other sites in Camp 4 in the years the Flames were smoldering therein.

Apathy was in the second block up on 16th St. in Pacific Grove. We were up the street from Nick the Chemist and across the street from some sourpuss long-haired doofus that fancied himself a hip New Age artist but cheapened himself in our eyes by exhibiting his crapola de crayola in the gallery of MPC, the community college. Where he took art classes. POSE!

We were so crassly superior that we exhibited our own "art" out on the front porch (which was glassed-in on three sides, facing the sunrise and Patrick's "studio" across 16th)in the form of a frame from a piano, strung and everything, hung from a beam, playable if we had mallets of any form. (Lost Arrows, Chouinard biners, Leeper, all had their own distinctive sound. It was our "indoors aeolian harp.")

This was when I made the fateful decision to inflict a wound on the wall of my own bedloom, in the form of a piton driven into the corner of two walls, and from which I hung my Granada, the $75 wonder-girl from SF. She had a hole and a neck and she was easy to play. What could be better? A guitar and sound-art?

Two girl friends, one to cook, one to play the harp unstrung.

I didn't know it then, but I was a pale imitation of Joe Fitschen, because I was too old for acne (never suffered it, in fact), and couldn't play any instrument except the universal skin flute. I was quietly good at that, as Manny Men will attest as to his own proficiency at the age of twenty-one, much less sixteen. Manny used to go with Rosey Palmas. He should know.

But this is about food. How crude.
Food and, ahem, are just too rude.

But the fact remains, the seeds have been sown of how we ate in the days of Jesus Freaks and no Carmel Hogs. We visited a shop in Carmel to buy organic, to stock up on bulgar (sounds good, but WTF is it?), and Jeff wanted to hit on the woman waiting on us, who didn't know what bulgar was either, it turned out, so we left after buying it anyway. The groats, same story. My five pounds of granola were to make sure we ate SOMETHING I could eat wihtout experimenting with.

The groats (buckwheat--whothef*#k knew?) proved digestible if cooked long enough and adulterated with brown sugar or molasses. The millet was not satisfying. But the home-made granola that Larry concocted from ingredients from the grocery store was the cat's ass! Much better than the boat anchors-in-the-skylight that we hung from fishing line. Better by far than the mobile of leaden sourdough pancakes that hung alongside. Apathy gourmet Gallery. The Pig's Lair. And we had no roaches, imagine!

Other than the monumental pile of garbage in the kitchen, Apathy's pride and the most hazardous pitch of the "Kitchen-Pathy Traverse" route on the four walls beneath that great old skylight, the kitchen was ordlnarily orderly, things were actually labelled--apothecary jars that clearly did actually, really contain something, but which were nonetheless stickered with contents identified, large bins with clearly-printed labels doing containment duty on oats and rice and barley and flour, and sourdough cultures, yoghurt cultures, under wraps but out on the stove for all to see, all had their places, largely the influence of the Rev. His dad had one of the most organized shops at home I've ever seen, surpassing my father's father's mania for "everything in its place."

And we were graced by the presence of not one, but two cooks of seelf-reput, Larry and Jeff.

"Division of labor decrees Mouse [and later Howard, who never cooked anyway] are dishwashers most of the time, especially if we cook."--joint communique by the Rev-and-Larry cooking combine

So I came up with vegetarian spaghetti sauce, which rocks, especially with Parmesan cheese. I got no love for it. "Veggies are too soggy, whats matta you?"

But the duumvirate of dining had sourdough down; they combinded on a turkey dinner with trimimmings all plain or fancy and planned with no parents invited over from Merced to object to oysters in the stuffing (PUKE!); and, honestly, I could not complain about cursory dishwashing (the Bermingham Swirl originated with my discovering how to wash silverware without getting your hands wet) or regret the fact that I didn't know chive from cheddar, so I got by, with a little help from my friends.

And the home-made granola? Jeff bagged it up and took it off for rats for that spring season in the Valley, leaving us with the commercial grade granola, but we still had the recipe and more Food Stamps.

"It was only Food Stamps, WTF. Let's go to the coffee shop."



mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 13, 2012 - 07:55am PT
I think this must be Mt. Lyell.  I get lost easy.  It's the highest pe...
I think this must be Mt. Lyell. I get lost easy. It's the highest peak in Yosemite so YAHOO for Jim and Mouse. "roper 4th class" happiness through the back door from Marie Lakes. Late '80s, October.
Credit: mouse from merced/Jim Shirley
Mt. Winchell, '82.  4th class happiness.
Mt. Winchell, '82. 4th class happiness.
Credit: Jim Shirley
After the Snake Hike, '86.  fifth class happiness.
After the Snake Hike, '86. fifth class happiness.
Credit: Jim Shirley
We are actual fair weather climbers! No sh#t, never have we toned it down because of weather gods. Straight ahead climbing, sun shining, clouds parting fair weather farers.

Lucky as hell, too!
Gypsy

Social climber
NC
Nov 17, 2012 - 05:55pm PT
Climbing Grant=Unemployment and Food Stamps
splitter

Trad climber
Cali Hodad, surfing the galactic plane
Nov 17, 2012 - 09:46pm PT
Manny use to go with Rosey Palmas.
She gets around, eh? lol

"ROSIE PALM'ER DON'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE!!!"

^ Sign I stuck on a buddy of mine's front door to great him when he and his new bride first returned home just after getting married.
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 17, 2012 - 09:58pm PT
Lotta Hand, Rosie, Louise Krusteaz, all the gals!

And the Flames Mammas, to a woman, were great to gaze on. Some were great cooks, even.

Happiness is a warm woo-hoo!

Marlas 1 & 2.
Liz's 1 & 2.
Dolores, plural already!
Peggy.
Gypsy.
Tire Biter.
Limber Linda.
Sha'a'la.
Sheila Slattery.
Belle Coates.
And Millis' short-time bride (sorry, Love, forgot your name. Mrs. Miller?)

What Flame ever deserved the woman who lit up his life by being with him? Randy and Throwpie, obviously. The rest were all eventually doused by their spouse!

Shout out to all STopian companions, partners, bottle-washers and seconds!!!
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 17, 2012 - 10:19pm PT
The plant produced 27 tons of ice a day when it closed its doors.--Dottie Smith on the Redding, CA, ice plant

http://www.redding.com/news/2012/nov/15/travelin-in-time-ice-house-had-long-and-run/

Tad, and anyone else from the Shasta area, this was at Oregon and Sacramento, next to the tracks. Just across the street was Gramma and Grampa Bermngham's place.

We used to play in the ice chip mounc they dumped out off the fromt dock which formed a large cone about as high as the dock. We caught hell from the parents, etc., over this, and I could never figure out why. That was pure Cascade potable water, so WTF?

I checked this out on Google Earth. The front sixth of the building was burned through to the roof (obviously and old image). they've cut down most of the large sycamores on the corner. They were giants when I was a boy.

I began life living in the upstairs apartment my dad rented from his dad, directly opposite the Union Ice House, as we then knew it.

Quickie quiz: How many gallons of water are required to make one ton of ice?
zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Nov 17, 2012 - 11:24pm PT
Is that before or after it melts?

One gigatonne of water has a volume of one billion cubic meters, or one cubic kilomter.(1 Gt water ≡ 1 km³)Of course, one gigatonne of ice has a greater volume than one gigatonne of water. But it will still have a volume of 1 km³ when it melts.

 Titanically yours, z_d'leShaunBrown

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 17, 2012 - 11:38pm PT
zBrown, do you have an accountant?

The last I heard, from various sources in Camp 4 and other places, like L'encyclopedie zBrun, give water the same weight as ice per gallon: 8.34 pounds/gallon.

Of course, ice climbers are curiously brain-damaged, so...You're thinking frozen waterfalls, I'm thinking in terms of ice nine.

mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 18, 2012 - 01:14am PT
Despite the big-time use of hippie lettuce my vocal chords never lost that audible "squeak."

It's like voice acne when I sing...

I wrote this when I found the False Ascent of Agassiz Column had been down-graded to a First Descent.

Then I adopted the pink ball cap. Things go better with pink.

Gypsy

Social climber
NC
Nov 18, 2012 - 05:04am PT
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdp42fYKFZ8
mouse from merced

Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
Topic Author's Reply - Nov 18, 2012 - 06:03am PT
Oui.

Jem Suis, live wire.

Kweskin can't finish.

Say it again.

Oprah say...

o, o , o, o, o . o . o.

Say swallow.

Honi saw.

Kay, yeah, ya, ya, ayah.

Ba-bp-ba-bp, clack, clack, clack, clack

Un de ma favorites! Merci beaucoup.


LilaBiene

Trad climber
Nov 18, 2012 - 10:49am PT
Mouse,

my heart to you in your loss...es. Camila wants to know if you're feeling better? She's worried about your heart boo-boos. She loves her presents from Mousie and covets the wonderful box.

We are late to the gym -- I had so much fun reading your thread -- keep on keepin' on -- gotta go do my medicinal swim or the wheels are going to fall off of the bus. ")

You hang in there, ya hear? Thinking of you.

Odd
zBrown

Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
Nov 18, 2012 - 11:05am PT
let me give you a little tip, mah frien - there's thirty-five cents underneath that napkin on the table.


"Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are 'It might have been.'"

rigorously quoted to short-circuit allegations of piracy




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