Even with all the pencil talk.... So fearful this continuation of "LHP" will awaken the beast. May I suggest we start a new thread called "wood products not called bats"?
Bat made into a wood product
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This thread just won’t die 😒
Gotta catch Tebow
@smokeminside posted:I must comment on the comments re: Ticonderoga pencils and the tactile--possibly even sensuous--experience of manually sharpening a pencil.
I had never seen the black Ticonderoga before and can only assume it's a private school pencil. I imagine the Black Ticonderoga as a luxury version of the basic yellow pencil, like a Cadillac CT5 compared to a Chevy Malibu.
Since my aim is to illuminate as well as educate, here's a picture of Ticonderoga boxes over the years. The company was founded in 1795, which makes it pretty old by American standards.
The company is now owned by an Italian conglomerate. Disappointing but not a deal breaker. What may be a dealbreaker for the purists among us is revealed in the article linked here:
https://www.washingtonpost.com...d92a3585d_story.html
Short version: the Italian owners maintain shadow offices in Florida and Georgia and Ticonderoga pencils are now made in China and Mexico instead of the U.S. Perhaps that's why the boxes no longer sport the Revolutionary War soldier. It's a sad state of affairs, imo, and one that has me now considering switching to this pencil brand, made in Tennessee :
Now about sharpening a pencil. For the young among you, this is what a REAL pencil sharpener looks like:
It can be mounted on a desk or wall with several screws. It's sturdy, dependable, requires no electricity, and the sound of its sharpening action recalls hearing ocean surf from a bit of a distance. Or, maybe, a small chainsaw doing light work. It also allows a more intimate interaction between the scribe and the care of the pencil, a relationship if you will. I know I will.
Thanks for asking and I'll be here all week.
I happen to be in Italy rn so if there is anyone I can talk to about this nonsense, let me know.
@JCG what is there left to say, really?
Wait til I get started on pens.
JCG, can you drop by Milan and knock on some doors?
Smoke, we used to go down in the basement to sharpen our pencils in the sharpener that was bolted to the stairwell. Something so satisfying about that... Plus, in school, the ADHD kids like me (back when it went undiagnosed and you were either labeled a space cadet or a spaz) would use the pencil sharpener as a much needed break/excuse to get up an move around.
Can't wait to read about pens. I was in Mozambique for a year and I loved their pens. Need to get back so I can stock up!
Let me know when you go! I've got pens from Romania and Armenia, but nothing like Mozambique.
Speaking of ADHD kids in school, I think I was one, too. I got to be the AV guy when I was in 6th grade because of it. We'd watch old historical dramas that were on big film reels. You had to make sure the film threaded into the projector properly or it would flutter and the sound would be out of sync. The best part was rewinding the films because there was a button you could push to make the rewind gears (or whatever the heck they were) go faster and faster. Each time we had a film I tried to set a rewind speed record. I even had a ratio worked out based on how many minutes long the films were and how long they took to rewind.
So, one day we watch this massive black and white film about Abraham Lincoln. When it's over everyone goes out to recess while I stay and start to rewind good ol' Abe. I pushed that speed button like 10 times and got the reels going really fast. I was certain I was on my way to a new record and was watching my artistry at work when I suddenly had to go pee. I HAD to go. But I also knew this was my shot at a new rewind record and I couldn't bear to abandon the effort.
Do I pee in the sink at the back of the room and risk getting caught by Cleo Beignet (my oblivious classmate crush, simply perfection in motion, wearing knee length plaid skirts, over-the-calf white stockings, saddle shoes, white shirts, and button up sweaters that changed colors every day. She had one piercing blue eye and one very warm brown eye and she was tall and she moved like a colt during coed PE).
OR do I rush to bathroom and let my favorite machine do its thing, advancing on the rewind record.
No way I was gonna slow that projector down and, finally, my bladder said now or never and I decided to let the projector do its rewind thing. I sprinted to the urinal, drained the lizard, and sprinted back to the classroom room.
The. film. was. all. over. the. floor.
And the reels were still spinning impossibly fast, unspooling even more film onto the floor like an endless ribbon of pappardelle. It was utter chaos. I managed to shut down the machine and glanced at the big, impassive clock on the wall: I had five minutes, only four minutes if my teacher, Miss Guirkin--(she of purple miniskirts and white go go boots and ash blond hair that lifted above her head like permanent tsunami)--was in a hurry.
So I got my Dixon Ticonderoga #2 (Yes! NOTHING else would do!) and stuck it through one of the gaps in the take up reel and started spinning the reel, rewinding the film like I'm conducting an orchestra on speed (the orchestra is on speed, not me). My salvage plan went swimmingly for a couple of minutes but then a few twisted frames of film didn't straighten out on their own and the freakin' film BROKE IN HALF.
I almost started to cry but I couldn't have lived with myself if Cleo had walked in when I had tears running down my cheeks. My whole face felt like I had sunburn, too. I had to do something! I rushed to Ms. Guirkin's desk, got a glob of scotch tape and taped the film together. Then I kept spinning the reels until the rest of the film finally rewound and I got everything in the mailing box just as the class returned from PE.
Ms. Guirkin came over to me and said "Nice job on the movie. Why are you panting? Why is your face so red?"
"I dunno."
She wandered away and Cleo came over and said "I kicked a homer in kickball today. What did you do?"
"Nothing. I didn't do anything. Honest!"
Cleo gave me a funny look and I slinked to my desk. I worried for the next month that someone would come and get me and throw me into Dumbass Jail. But it never happened.
No records were set that day but the next year, but by the end of 7th grade, I finally got the courage to call Cleo up. A mutual friend had warned her of my interest and she told him he could warn me of her interest. An appointment for a phone call was set, the call was made, the attraction was mutual, the shy glances we shared at school as we passed each other in the hallway turned into romantic stare downs and lingering locker rendezvous.
And, then, a few weeks later, my dad was transferred from the Pentagon to Spokane, Washington, and I never saw Cleo Beignet again.
I'm trying to interpret this as a metaphor for playing high school and college baseball....
I. Am. Dying.
A little disappointed that there was no note with check boxes but otherwise this is perfection...the way you worked in ADHD, kick ball, saddle shoes and a trusty Ticonderoga all into one story. 
So sad you never got to take Cleo to Cafe du Monde.
@smokeminside so now we know how you were inspired to became a film editor who moonlights as a pastry chef.
I’m waiting for the dissertation on writing left handed. My son is one of those unique players who throws right, writes left.
When he was two he wanted a glove. His sister was seven and playing softball. My son never displayed a dominant hand. The frustration of not being able to play short past LL motivated me to teach him to throw right handed. By four it was obvious he was left handed in everything else he did.
Besides, why should I have taught him to throw left? He hit 90 max junior year of high school right handed with minimal pitching instruction. What would he have done throwing with his natural hand with continued training? <sarcasm aimed at self
Anyway, life has worked out well for him. Except he writes funny.
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@RJM
What would he have done throwing with his natural hand with continued training?
Well that depends on the training. Are you referring to Tim's school of Flamethrowers?
I don’t think I own a pencil.
@T_Thomas, I've been there!!! Look up Chamonix/Aiguille de Midi "Step Into the Void." I didn't get a pen but I got to see Mont Blanc in person. I'm now actively trying to see how many side paths we can take this thread on...
@PTWood posted:@T_Thomas, I've been there!!! Look up Chamonix/Aiguille de Midi "Step Into the Void." I didn't get a pen but I got to see Mont Blanc in person. I'm now actively trying to see how many side paths we can take this thread on...
Any interest in the discussion of cleaning blackboard erasers on the side of the school (or beating against each other) resulting in a giant chalk cloud and no doubt ingesting fine particulate matter of chalk and dust that will be shown to cause some horrendous disease that will result in a late night class action notification?
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Hey, you don't reckon there was asbestos in that chalk do ya?
@smokeminside posted:In case you're wondering, I'm really trying to get this thread to 7 pages because I like prime numbers, like D1, which is obviously the only D that matters.
I'd note that 2 and 3 (as in D2 and D3) are also prime numbers...
@T_Thomas posted:When I'm not using the black Ticonderogas...
But my daughter did jump out of a perfectly good airplane 10,000 feet over the Alps.
Crazy kids...
@ReluctantO'sFan posted:This thread just won’t die 😒
No but it sure took a LH turn at Albuquerque!
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Yup! My phone froze (literally)...trying to get picture proof from my friends. LOL
This thread is ending where it started. With a lot of comments that are so outlandish you’re not sure if the poster is joking or looney
@PTWood posted:Can't wait to read about pens. I was in Mozambique for a year and I loved their pens. Need to get back so I can stock up!
I loved the Peri Peri Chicken and fries with Grape Fanta. Could not get enough while I was in Mozambique for 2 weeks many years ago. The peri peri was just spicy enough my lips tingled for the whole meal. So good.
@used2lurk that was my lunch many days...plus the fresh seafood. Yum!
@FriarFred the joys of smacking the erasers together outside and getting huge chalk clouds!
@used2lurk posted:I loved the Peri Peri Chicken and fries with Grape Fanta. Could not get enough while I was in Mozambique for 2 weeks many years ago. The peri peri was just spicy enough my lips tingled for the whole meal. So good.
From '04 through '11 I enjoyed many meals featuring Peri-Peri chicken at Nando's when I returned to Qatar after being out in the 'field'. I was excited to see they have expanded their restaurants to the States. I don't know if it's better than the real thing in Africa, but Nando's is our go-to chicken place when dining out these days.
After traveling abroad in my younger days and living a major metropolitan area, I had the good fortune of experiencing a diverse range of chicken recipes from the bland (barely brined) to unbearable near angina causing spicy-ness. I can't think of a better food source that links all of humanity...heck the vegan chicken is pretty darn good too. To keep this in line with the thread, every committed LHP and parent I know, especially those who are gung ho D1 eats chicken
Wade Boggs loved his chicken, ate it before every game. He also liked to drink Miller Lite from what I have heard. Both are essential for success.
Since it seems that I have failed to divert this thread down the path of my choosing, I guess I'll jump on the wagon..... It must be noted *
I should clarify, chicken and beer are essential for D1 success. Those lower levels are irrelevant.