My daughter showed me something new called Century eggs. New to me, that is. They’ve actually been around a very long time. The way I understand it a duck egg is placed raw in some special mud for a few months and it ferments. When peeled, the albumin looks black. The yolk is an uninspiring earthy color. Held up to the light, the yolk is translucent amber. The description she gave of the taste should have eliminated it from any hope of being sampled as a serious food item but I tried it.

Neither taste nor texture is awful, but especially after reading about the way this ‘delicacy’ is made I’m not so sure I’ll consume the other four she generously insisted that I take home.

My daughter bought the Z3 from me. She says the passenger window isn’t working quite right. Figures. I replaced the window regulator and these two little bits in the drivers side prior to sending it away. Looks like the passenger side needs the job done too. It involves pulling the inner part of the door, then removing the quarter light, then pulling out the window and removing the air bag.  Then these parts are swapped in and everything put back together.

I went to Sunday church service and there was a choir. I can notice these things, but I regret sharing them and thereby conveying a sense of irreverence. Still, it didn’t stop me. The women all had necks. For the men, no such thing was in evidence. After the meeting, I shared my observance with friends who sat one pew ahead. Dang me.

This evening I thought maybe I ought to install the clutch while I wait for the water pump to show up. But when I looked it over I couldn’t just reuse the bracket that the upper end of the lower links mount to. I stripped and sanded it along with the trim plate for the lower bell housing cover. Suspended on a dowel, they’re now properly painted with POR-15 and drying. This stinks up the photo  studio with the scent of paint but with no photo shoot scheduled, it’s probably just fine. Until the paint is dry enough to allow those parts to be installed, they’ll have to bide their time indoors.

The car has 39000 original miles on it if the odometer is to be trusted, but some of the bits and pieces look like they have done much more time.

A previous owner told me that most of the consumable parts were original to the car. Not true though. And these two bits of steel must have come painted silver. Later they were painted black. Now they’re going back to silver or aluminum color.

My new theory is that the original owner got lots of use out of the vehicle. The second one got none. The third got but very little but enjoyed a project. The fourth one probably got frustrated, but he describes his 3000 miles as trouble free and has several thousand dollars of receipts to prove it.

I figure the car will be back on  the road by the weekend.

I’ve been reading again. This time as I was going over a passage in scripture about the birth of Christ I could see him in my minds eye with others planning the particulars of his time  on the planet. The guy specifically and non-ambiguously picked a rough bunch to deal with. Likely the gnarliest bunch on the planet. He was and is no coward. He had a job and he took it seriously. For that crucial part: Mission complete.

My sense of humor probably belongs in the 1950’s. Thoughts come to mind and I pass them on via social media sometimes. Here’s a sample from this past weekend:

A couple had a son. It was unexpected. Every year after that  they celebrated his birthday and like is done in factories they acknowledged the same number of years ‘accident free’. Then this came to me:

A fence provides some security for your property. De-fencing, or taking it away, reduces security. So having no de-fence, or being de-fenceless, increases your security. Right?

Recently I exercised my unparalleled ability to say the exact wrong thing. Friends came to visit and in the course of the bantor their daugher asked if I would photograph her and her friend together. Not one to lose an opportunity to get visual material for art projects I said I’d want model releases signed. This is especially true for any model too young to sign contracts. The parent or guardian would have to know and approve of the photos being taken and used for legal purposes.

I’ve never liked the language of photograph model release forms because they seem harsh but they’re essential to use someone’s likeness in work that could be published. On the other hand, there is no reason why the appearance couldn’t be altered sufficiently to make her unrecognizable. So maybe a release isn’t needed after all. Only if the likeness is retained.

Showing the mom one of the forms, I exclaimed that I’d never sign one. Aghast, she asked why. “Because I’m a paranoid.” I replied.

Later I realized that every single model image that shows up on any advertisement, book cover, magazine, bill board, flier, and anything else that’s printed or published has a model release form on file somewhere. So now you know why my modeling fortune was never made and why Fabio got the job instead. Darn him. Plus he has the hair.

So it was a brilliant thing to say.

One small task lies ahead this week: harvest the rest of the seeds from this year’s flower beds. They are the type that you can plant year after year rather than the hybrids typically sold at the store which must be replaced every year.