2003 May

The fact that I am admitting I watched this movie is a better review than I expected to give it :!:. Way better than the Red Sonya-type modern sex heroine flick I thought I was in for, but still no match for Tank Girl.

Need instructions? If you have the 13′x10′ model, your prayers are answered! Here is a PDF of the owner’s manual. Commenters report good service by calling 1-800-775-1965 for other models.

This seems to be a widespread problem. Since you don’t need to leave a comment begging for instructions, how about leaving one with your location instead? We’ll see how many screenhouses across the country we can rescue. You don’t even have to bother reading the following review, whose purpose in life has become feeding the search engines and getting you here to end your desperate plight in the face of that pile of little white tubes…

Now and then I walk into a store, it tends to be named ___Mart, and buy something I know is going to bring nothing but grief and heartbreak. But I hope it won’t. Yes, I know it will, so what gives? Is it plain stupidity? A Pavlovian reaction to super-size doses of advertising? Greed, optimism, stinginess, and materialistic guilt thrashing together in a dance of futility that leads straight to the checkout counter? To make matters worse, sometimes I’m so ashamed of the purchase that I can’t even bring myself to return it.

So far this sounds like a poor review, so let me say that, as the picture shows, the product did eventually reach a state of functionality of sorts. I know there is more grief and heartbreak in my future, but hey, I’m using it.

One mad idea often begets another, and that is how this $34.95 purchase came about. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere in the blog, I’m getting married in Joshua Tree on August 2nd, outdoors. It occurred to me that if I insist on inviting people into a blazing Mojave inferno in the height of the summer it would be polite to provide some shade. Shade can be a matter of survival there if you’re outside at midday. So the idea was born. Then I started having other wild fantasies, like effectively adding a room to the desert shack where I live by erecting the shadehouse in the backyard. Hope. Optimism. Greed. Stinginess.

When I got the thing home and deboxed it, the reality began to set in. Dozens of two-foot sections of pipe spilled onto the floor with stickers labeling them ‘1B’, ‘4′, or ‘2B’. Or not 2B. Childhood memories of failures with Tinker Toys came flooding back. But, with determined hope, I began to wade through the instructions.

This is one of those products where the instructions are basically a complete fantasy. They make one false unstated assumption after another. And even then, they’re not simple. What you wind up with is a web of pipes and plastic pieces that falls apart at one end as you assemble the other. Then the instructions start to get really funny. ‘Insert the leg poles into the hubs to raise the screenhouse frame’ got the first laugh. The “frame” barely stayed together on the ground. Any attempt to lift a corner and insert a leg pole resulted in pipes flying everywhere. I thought of resorting to duct tape, but since I had none handy, with great finesse I managed to lift each corner one pipe segment at a time. Some middle sections fell out but I had a standing frame of sorts, swaying and wobbling. Then came the real punchline.

‘Drape the screenhouse body over the frames.’ I thought I had never read a more ludicrous suggestion. Drape the body. HA! Not only was the frame more than a little unstable, the body is BIG, and HEAVY. Where would you start draping? At a corner? No way, the thing would explode. The only slight possibility was starting from the inside, in the middle. With great trepidation and many prayers I managed to do some draping. I had to take some pieces out to drape from the middle, hold everything together, drape, and put them back underneath the canvas. I could hardly believe it when I had the entire thing draped. Victory!

The rest of the process was funny too, with wimpy frizzy guylines, and inexplicable bits of plastic that are supposed to tighten them. I had to use every knot I’ve learned from rock climbing. But it went up. It’s pretty nice. There’s shade, and fewer bugs than outside the screenhouse. I do have some reservations left, though. I wonder what will happen when the wind comes. Will I come home and just find the screenhouse gone, or will I see it blowing around in the street, trailing pipe segments? What about the rain, or the potential for 120-degree heat? We’ll see. For the moment, my dream of an extra room in the back yard has come true. Wish me luck putting it up at the wedding.

Ann and I spent three days and two nights backpacking and climbing in the domelands this weekend. We encountered many things: A young rattlesnake right under our feet, endless stands and varieties of flowers, a wade through a swampy beaver pond, a thrilling rock climb up Moon Dome (posted in Climbing), an accidental dunk in Trout Creek, and an intentional dunk in the South Fork Kern River, to mention a few. A weekend to be remembered for a long time to come.

Ann and I did our (and my) most adventurous route yet this weekend:

The route is highlighted with a dot between each pitch. The trees are so big that you don’t get a correct sense of scale - the end of the first pitch is about 180 feet up! Because of the 10 mile approach it doesn’t get climbed often, and between the sweet clean spots one is confronted with bushes, wet moss, and flaky lichen. There is even a nasty offwidth section at the end of the 2nd pitch. Still, I can’t complain about this route. The good sections are really good, and it was in such a beautiful, secluded place. Both of us were challenged, thrilled, intimidated, and exhausted by it. It has all the makings for one of those stories that gets better with every telling…

Sitting by an onramp with a cardboard sign my be a great career move.

I can’t help it, the desert flowers are blowing my mind. This is a prickly pear at my friend’s house in Joshua Tree. When we left to go climbing there were only buds, and upon return a bee was already hard at work in the blossom. There were also lillies blooming all over the place this time, even one popping out of a crack next to a climb. And tiny, bright orange poppies right next to the ground. The whole 60’s facination with flowers, flower children and such, never appealed to me. So by association, I’ve never been too interested in flowers. But I may be overwhelmed by beauty in the end.

Another sight to add to the amazing things I’ve seen at Wagon Wheel, the area where I boulder. The moon rose over the desert hills already well into the earth’s shadow, and put on a three hour show.

Ok hobo fans, I believe it is “safe” to announce the date your cyberhobo will leave bachelorhood like an empty bindle by the road. I will marry Annie Fish on August 2, 2003 in Joshua Tree National Park. To be honest, I can hardly wait.

Invitations have not gone out yet, but be warned, we are keeping the list small. If you want to make sure you get one, ask!

This is a great paper on hobos. Although it may classify me as a recreational hobo, or worse, a yuppie hobo, it brings to attention the factors that created hobos: unemployment and small, dispersed work opportunities. Even though the original “hoe-boy” hobo really is gone, the same forces exist today. Perhaps instead of creating hobohemias in our cities, they will create them on the web…

Seen on Wilshire Blvd., a major thoroughfare in Los Angeles, California:
Tired homeless man carrying a cardboard sign
“Homeless, hungry, please help. God bless.”
Which he flips over to reveal
“Or, visit my website at www.hobo.com”

more off-color hobo humor