SolMate Santiago Logs
Log #72, September 2008
Posted Sunday, 29 September, 2008
Happy Birthday, Chelsea!!
The On-Going Fight, and the Arsenal
Still fighting critters, and they've escalated by moving indoors. There's a pile of sawdust underneath the dartboard, which calls for escalation on our side, as well, right?
Spritzing chemicals outdoors where delicate feline nervous systems aren't involved is one thing (not a nice thing, but...), but we certainly can't be spreading noxious poisons willy-nilly around the house.
Our line of environmental friendliness has been drawn at the threshold, so we need new tactics. Besides the little buggers behind the dart board, we also have a new (old) librero that we picked up at a secondhand store, and it's riddled with tiny little holes.
Reclining librero, vacuumed and scrubbed, ready for treatment, but which one?
Pentachlorophenol (PCP)
An indoor strategy required another trip to the insecticide shop for consultation. Problem explained, he sent us home with a MX $78 bottle of "stuff." A quick web search revealed that this sort of attack wasn't what we had in mind.
Banned for interior use in the US, Pentaclorofenol (pentachlorophenol) is the PCP that wooden ammunition boxes were treated with when Stan and I were in that business - then it was banned. Indoor use is only recommended if two or more coats of sealant are painted over it. And application requires a full chem suit. We won't be applying PCP.
Then, when pressed for a less toxic solution, our poison pusher sold us Termidor (fipronil). Another web search showed that fipronil is the same ingredient as in the Frontline flea and tick treatment we give the cats every month. That's more like it.
However, the info also stated that Termidor should be used as a termite block or bait in trenches around buildings, not as a paint-on killer/repellent. So we were still stumped as to what to do to keep the hungry little critters from eating up our librero.
We stopped and chatted with our local used furniture folks and asked them about bug prevention. Just so happened, they were in the process of painting on their own anti-bug treatment in the back room. They took us back and showed us their concoction: diesel and used motor oil.
So many possibilities, and a few of them even seem to be cat-friendly. I painted a little Termidor on the underside of the librero, and over some of the tiny little holes. If we notice sawdust around it, then maybe we'll change ammo. For now I'm seriously considering soaking the dartboard backstop in diesel.
Posted Friday, 26 September, 2008
And Speaking of Bora's
The evening we braced ourselves for a late night at Bora's the wind whipped rain into the bar and chased us from prime seats on the railing. Later, when the tide came in, spray from breaking waves annointed the band.
Bora's bank, outside, bandstand inside
Along with weird summer-time currents along the beach, that same rain and those same waves have wreaked havoc upon the shoreline, taking down a few retaining walls.
The wall by Bora's has been hanging by a thread of rebar for months and months. We've been waiting to see what would finally send it crashing down. From the looks of the erosion, rain may have played just as loud a chorus in its death knell as the wave action.
Bora's beach leading to Margarita's palapa on the rocks
Seems to be the same story up the beach where another wall bit the dust, although that wall had no rebar to shore it up. It's still crumbling away, bit by bit, every time it rains. And it's been raining, daily - wading into the last month of rainy season.
Our beach at Olas Altas minus 30 meters (length) of retaining wall
Posted Friday, 19 September, 2008
At Bora's
At Bora's
Bryan at Bora's
Click on this picture for
a larger view of us in the crowd
next to the column in the back.
Thanks MySpace for the pix.
It was great fun to reunite with Kim and Linda from the sailing vessel Endeavor. SolMate and Endeavor crossed the Mexican border together in 2004. We've always enjoyed running into Kim and Linda on our travels. Our paths crossed, again, in Ajijic, where they introduced us to Ajijic nightlife and a fabulous band.
We were pleased and surprised to discover that the band was on its way to Manzanillo to play a couple of gigs at Bora's, a little surfer bar down the street from La RanaQuemada.
Bora's is just a tad bit different than Ajijic's Vicky's.
- Vicky's is a sedate restaurant - good food.
- Bora's is a surfer bar open to ocean storms and sea spray - no food.
- Vicky's entertainment starts at 7:00, ends around 10:00.
- Bora's entertainment, scheduled for 11:30, actually starts around 12:30, and ends ... well, really late.
- Vicky's crowd speaks English and the average age is 55 going on 80.
- Bora's crowd speaks Spanish and the average age is 25 going on 12.
- Vicky's wild excitement: a customer's wig was ripped off.
- Bora's wild excitement? not exactly sure; when we left around 2:00, the joint was surrounded by policia, we assume for nothing more serious than crowd/dope-control.
Both venues were a blast; good company, great music.
Posted Tuesday, 16 September, 2008, Independence Day
The Back Yard
Successful machete-wielding trimmer,
only a one-gash/one-bandaid operation
Mango, trimmed
Bumbling along, gardening in the tropics. One gardening theory is that weeding out the overhanging branches on the mangoes will allow sunlight to filter into the avocado, oranges and limes. Then the good fruits will thrive and eventually we'll be able to eliminate the damn messy mangoes - ?!
The mango canopy provides coolth. If we're wrong, we could be permanently thinning out our shade and screwing up the whole backyard thermo-environment, which is where we draw cooling air for the house.
Another theory we're still working on. We've opted out of air conditioning, and have been experimenting with cooling. As long as one stays within effective range of one of eight fans, life is good. Air circulates from the north, the cool and shaded back yard, blows through the hot house and vents out the front.
If siesta is bearable, the theory holds up. Sleeping hasn't been a problem - the feline contingent seems unaffected by heat. So far, so good.
Posted Sunday, 7 September, 2008
Auto-matically
"If it's not one thing, it's another" (Rosanne Rosanna-danna). Stan and I had offered up the van to avoid the taxista gouging game, but after dashing around town on our weekly errands, the van died, deader'n'adoornail, ten blocks from home.
Mad scramble to the airport. A neighbor lent her car. Pick-up was late, only by half an hour, but arriving on the last plane of the day at our little ole airport - way out in the jingjangs, miles and miles from civilization - can be disconcerting. Cleaning and security crews had already headed home, locking doors behind them. The last taxista had faded into the sunset, along with the one and only mode of escape.
The junkyard ignition switch, installed
Pick-up was late, but successful, as was follow-on van repair.
After mulling the problem all night, Stan hopped outa bed with a van plan. First he hot-wired it and brought it home. Then he buzzed it out with his handy-dandy multimeter and isolated the problem to somewhere in the starter, maybe?
Off to the dealer/repair shop for a starter. Overnighted, Stan installed it the next day, but whoops, still no go.
Not too many options left, he removed the ignition assembly, found the switch wanting, and trudged back to the dealer to see about a replacement.
Stan's workshop
Ignition switch: US part, seven to ten days delivery from the north, heaven-only-knows how much in duty to pay, along with exhorbitant mark up. But Stan was not to be deterred. Being an old hand at boat maintenance, he knows a thing or two about procuring parts.
Yonke, junk, as in junkyard. One yonke offered a whole steering column, another, just the switch, key included, and no import taxes.
On the way home from the junkyard, Stan picked up the mail: the rest of the power steering pump assembly that Dad had sent (thnx, Dad, we owe you).
So, he installed the ignition switch (it worked!), then he attacked the power steering pump and fixed it, too. Not only that, but when he finished, he kitty-littered the driveway, too. My kinda mechanic!
Three days of sweltering work, plus running around town for parts, and my buddy delivered a clean driveway and a fully functional van ... in plenty of time for its weekly walkabout and another trip to the airport.
Posted Monday, 1 September, 2008
The Feline Files
The REMODEL Logs are finally being updated, cuz we've finally re-started our housework. Check out the logs for the latest in paint and fans in the guest bathroom/playroom.
We've had new developments on the feline front, too, so I thought I'd post pictures of the little darlings.
Bucky
Bucky is the same. ADHD. Eats everything in sight. her little hard body barely tips the scales at 7.5 pounds. She's still our one and only lap cat, more so when food's involved.
Gale only looks thinner. It's summer and he's dressed in half a coat. The other half is floating around the house, piling up in the corners.
Gale's usually mellow as king of the roost, but asserts himself every once in awhile, like when the feral toms cruise the yard and Gale challenges them through the screen door ... alpha-boy protecting his pride.
He shows great tolerance toward Chivo, however. The white boy weighs only a pound less, and will be celebrating his first birthday this month. Chivo loves everyone, but hasn't a clue in the affection department, getting or giving. He loves to cuddle, but then can't resist chomping. If his target is Bucky, she chomps back. If it's Gale, he can't be bothered and stalks away.
 
If Chata's the object of Chivo's affections, she growls.
Chata's back. She's the little fluff who stayed with us over Christmas. Chivo was half size at that point, and he was totally smitten ... followed her everywhere, called for her if she was out of his sight.
Nothing's changed as far as Chivo's concerned, except his size. Out-weighing her by five pounds, Chata isn't so sure she wants Chivo's affection. She's only been back a few days, so she's not so sure she wants anybody's affection. She's been spending her days in the safety of the closet shelf, tucked between boxes.
SolMate Santiago contact: mj(at)solmatesantiago(dot)com
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