Sheilajeanne

I doubt you will find snakes this big anymore! It definitely looks like they would have been able to swallow a person whole! Drying snake skins in a warehouse in the Port of London, 1930.

That is some of the best work I've seen on here in a long time! I was interested to see how you did it, especially the piping, so I checked out your links on FB. A lot of work but you make it look so easy! Of course, anyone who has tried this know it is not. The brown wallet does have nicer piping, but both are very very well made! Your work is AWESOME! What do you call the machine that sews the piping?

Well, I guess the job gets pretty boring, with nothing but long stretches of track and bush or plains... But what a risky way to get some excitement in his life! Even if I'd been in something sportier than a Landy, I would have backed down, too. No messing with that much weight and power! YIKES!!

When I came back to view this thread, I realized what I wrote yesterday never got posted! Fred, I was thinking of that other post of mine when I mentioned the catapult on his desk! I may give it a try....but there's a LOT of other, more important stuff I SHOULD be doing! There used to be a guy in the Tolkien fandom who had a thing about trebuchets. His screen name was Krispy Kreme, and he used them to propel his favourite donuts! That's where I developed an interest in them. To this day, if you happen to mention the word 'trebuchet' in the Tolkien forum I belong to, you'll get an enthusiastic response! Anyway, here's yesterday's post: Good one about the catalogue and TP, Tugadude. About the nails - one of my uncles used a woodstove to heat his workshop on the farm, which was in the shed that also housed two of their tractors. One day, the woodstove caused the roof to catch fire, and the whole shed went up in flames. My cousin was barely able to save the tractors. The one wouldn't start, so he had to use the other to tow it out. He was shaking like a leaf by the time he got it to safety. Of all the nails and other bits of hardware that were in the workshop, not a single thing could be salvaged. My uncle showed us what had happened. He picked up a nail, and easily bent it double and broke it with very little pressure. The fire had been so hot, all the metal lost its temper.

Awww! Laughing at the Elmer Fudd cartoon! Well done!

Right, Fred. Chuck that is indeed an awesome video! I bought a round knife, and never felt comfortable using it, as I think the handle is too long for my hand. But after watching her, I may give it another try!

Hey, that's the guy from Mythbusters! Will have to give these a watch... Edit: I just noticed the armourer has a small trebuchet on his workbench! Obviously his job is not all serious work...

A local bar was so sure that its barman was the strongest man in the Village that they offered a standing $1000 bet. The barman would squeeze a lemon until all the juice ran out and challenge any man to squeeze out another drop. Weightlifters, arm wrestlers, they all tried and lost the bet. Then one day, a scrawny little man, (if he stood sideways you would not see him) wearing scratched glasses, a ten year old polyester suit, walked in and said, “I'd like to take on the bet." After the laughter had died down, the barman said, "Okay", grabbed the lemon and squeezed away. Then he handed the wrinkled remains of the lemon rind to the little man. But the crowd's laughter turned to total silence....as the man clenched his little fist around the lemon and six drops fell into the glass. As the barman paid the $1000 bet, he asked "What do you do for a living? Are you a lumberjack, a metal worker, a weight-lifter, or what?" The little man quietly replied: "I’m a tax collector.”

Handstitched, so sorry for your loss. I know how hard it is. And how the grief will sneak up and cause you to burst into tears at the most unexpected times, over the most trivial things. I kept things that belonged to my husband. Have gradually let go of some (it will be 20 years next year!) but still have a few. A lambs wool sweater that is far too big for me but very cosy to wrap up in on a cold night. A sweat shirt from the university we both graduated from. At some point I need I know to go through the hundreds of pictures he took during our time together, and get them down to a manageable number, then scan them into the computer. The best description of the grieving process I've ever come across is this. I don't know who wrote it, but it's very accurate: "My friend just died. I don't know what to do." ‘I’m old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents... I wish I could say you get used to people dying. But I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see. As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

Roman civilization was pretty advanced, even in the first century. I just saw a ring posted on FB earlier today. It's a memorial ring for a young man who died in the 1st century AD, and has his 3D likeness holographically engraved in quartz crystal: And yes, they definitely had lathes! https://themacabrenbold.tumblr.com/post/670202263645601792/a-2000-year-old-hologram-enclosed-in-a-gold Edited to add: I keep looking at the above photo, and having worked on two different digs in my younger years, my first thought is: "If that person's an archaeologist, and has been working on a dig, WHY ARE THEIR HAND SO CLEAN??"

I have a suggestion for tracking down the name. I've been researching my family tree and have found that old address books are often available online. It would seem the artist of the stool must have lived locally. See if you can get a better idea of when the stool was made, then check the local address books for that name. Most old books have a business section - what modern people would call 'The Yellow Pages', and the name may be listed there under leather goods or saddle and harness makers.

Anyone want to guess how old this awl is? Looks like something you might have found in a modern garden, that had been left lying there for a decade or so, right? Or what the awl on your workbench might look like if you left it lying outside for enough years. Nope, it's from the Roman fort a Vindolana, and is from the pre-Hadrian's wall period of the fort, so before 122 AD! So cool that our craft is so old, and some things have changes so little!

Ohh yeah, we've all had that one person... Love it, though I probably would never had had the guts to actually do it!

SMH... Of course, there's a total ban on open fires in N.S. right now, and fines have been increased to a maximum $25,000. Still, some people have decided, oh, this doesn't apply to me! Idiots!! Have several friends and one family member living in the area. They say it is very, very dry right now. And yesterday, there was a thunderstorm, and lightning strikes triggered some fresh blazes. Province just can't catch a break...

Dad joke of the day = okay it's kinda dumb but it made me laugh! Reminds me of the jokes we used to tell when we were kids, like why do elephants paint their toenails red? So they can hide in cherry trees... Q. 500 bricks are on a plane. One falls off. How many are left? A. 499 Q. What are three steps to putting an elephant in a refrigerator? A. Open Door, put elephant in refrigerator, close door Q. What are four steps to putting a giraffe in a refrigerator? A. Open door, take elephant out of refrigerator, put giraffe in refrigerator, close door Q. The lion throws a huge birthday party. All the animals but one go. Which is it and why? A. The giraffe: he's still in the refrigerator Q. Sally swims across an alligator infested river and doesn't get eaten. How? A. The alligators are at the lion's birthday party Q. Sally is found dead within the next 5 minutes: why? A. She was hit by a brick falling from the sky

Forgive me if you've heard this one before...it's a good one! And the good ones are worth repeating! A senior citizen drove his brand new Corvette convertible out of the dealership. Taking off down the road, he floored it to 80 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through what little gray hair he had left. Amazing, he thought as he flew down I-94, pushing the pedal even more. Looking in his rear view mirror, he saw a state trooper behind him, lights flashing and siren blaring. He floored it to 100 mph, then 110, then 120. Suddenly he thought, What am I doing? I'm too old for this, and pulled over to await the trooper's arrival. Pulling in behind him, the trooper walked up to the Corvette, looked at his watch, and said, "Sir, my shift ends in 30 minutes. Today is Friday. If you can give me a reason for speeding that I've never heard before, I'll let you go." The old gentleman paused. Then he said, "Years ago, my wife ran off with a state trooper. I thought you were bringing her back." "Have a good day, sir," replied the trooper

Yes, indeed! There are actually FOUR separate fires, and only the smallest one is under any sort of control. Fire fighters and equipment are coming from outside to help - two water bombers from Newfoundland, eight aircraft from New Brunswick as well as fire fighters from New York and New Hampshire. The Westwood Hills fire is the one that's caused mass evacuations as it started in a residential area close to Halifax.

From the front lines in Halifax: https://www.facebook.com/wade.pgrandy.3 For those of you who don't have FB, Wade Grandy is a fire captain in Halifax: These fine young men were amazing last night. 15 hours of back breaking work none stop. Small break for coffee and a snack. Pee break and back at it. Ride with each one of ya anytime. First 10 Man crew. Great job fellas. Hats off to Sean Berrigan for wheeling that truck around and Pumping probably 30000 plus gallons of water. Lost count of how many times we broke down repacked and off to another.

Yeah, that would be the Alberta fires. We actually got some of that smoke in southern Ontario!

When a member of the press asked the Ministry of Natural Resources officer about how the fires started, he said they were caused by humans, but whether deliberately set, or accidentally is still under investigation.

Two large fires in Nova Scotia are burning out of control, and there is no relief in sight from rain. Mass evacuations have started in some areas - police have made 2 lane roads one way only to hasten the evacuation. Please pray. Livestock are in danger too - much harder to evacuate them. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/nova-scotia/tantallon-hammonds-plains-pockwock-wildfire-evaucations-forest-fire-halifax-1.6857729

What would be the purpose, Frodo? To protect the stitches?

Cattledude, so sorry for your loss. I lost my husband to cancer, and breast cancer took both my husband's mother and my grandmother. Fortunately, with better diagnostics and much better treatments, many more women survive breast cancer these days.

Yes, the chemo is very tough on the veins! It's probably a PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line, and it ends in one of the large vessels just above the heart, so the chemo gets mixed with a large volume of blood as soon as possible, and doesn't have time to damage the vein. That's great about the subsidies for wigs and scarves. I paid full price for my cap - it's amazing how cold your head gets when there is no hair on it! The wig was a free loan from the Canadian Cancer Society. My hairdresser trimmed off the few remnants of hair I had left, so everything remaining would fit under the wig. I offered to pay her, but she refused to take my money.

Hair loss depends on the chemo drug used. My oncologist told me I'd lose my hair, and I did, after the 3rd session. I was able to get (borrow) a very nice wig from the Cancer Society. A friend of mine who was a hairdresser didn't even realize it was a wig! The up side to the hair loss was it happened during the COVID lockdown, when no one was able to get a haircut. Me...I didn't have to worry! Wigs are ridiculously expensive to buy, so if your wife thinks she would like one, see what the local Cancer society has available. Cancer treatment, especially for breast cancer, has improved a great deal in the last few decades. My grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer in the 1960's, at the same age I was diagnosed. She died from it. So did my husband's mother (late 1950's) My cancer never would have been caught in time without a mammogram. Even the oncologist, using the mammogram as a guide, had a hard time feeling where it was in the breast. I won't say the treatment was a walk in the park, but it was light years ahead of what we used to hear about 20 years ago, with nausea, vomiting and radiation burns. I had some minor weeping of the skin with the radiation that lasted about 10 days. Even that wouldn't have happened if it weren't for them changing my treatment schedule due to COVID. They condensed what should have been a month long treatment into just 7 days. Will be keeping your wife in my prayers!