Archive for February, 2011

So last week, a technician came out and restored our suddenly dead 2-month-old fridge to working order, by diagnosing the problem as a refrigerant leak and making the necessary repairs and refills.

All was cool, literally, until less than 24 hours later when the fridge started making this noise for extended periods of time:

Sometimes it would be louder, sometimes quieter. Sometimes it would continue for a few minutes, occasionally it would rattle for more than half an hour. Never was it not infuriating.

I called Samsung back and in the course of the understanding rep listen to me wax incredulous about how we bought the appliance for its ability to keep our food cold and  NOT for its potential as a random alarm clock, a new service appointment (with a different company) was scheduled for yesterday.

More than three near interminable hours after this repairman arrived the fix was in, but the first 2.5 hours involved him checking and replacing sensors and the refrigerator of course not making the noise with the tech really having no clue from my recording whether it was from something inside or outside of the compressor. Finally I got down there, pushed on the thing and voila: there was the noise, which it turned out was being caused by a copper tube from the compressor being too close to the nearby circulating fan, and when the tube would ice up enough contact with the blades and the frozen water would be made.

Part of the problem, the tech said, was that the previous repairman had overcharged the compressor with refrigerant, which in turn was causing the copper line from it to ice up when the compressor operated at its highest output. So he then reduced the amount of coolant and as an additional precaution moved the pipe away from the fan.

Now everything’s quiet and cool.

I’ve proudly tossed this pano I snapped yesterday morning up on, Facebook, Flickr and the wall of the Mobil Station bathroom on Silver Lake Boulevard and Bellevue. The reason I’m posting it here isn’t just because I’m incorrigibly redundant so much as incorrigibly interested in showing off the largest version of the image so you can see how much I literally lucked out. Seriously, I’ve been doing panoramas since the early 1980s and I’ve never achieved one as large and as detailed as this. Hell, in the fifth frame from the left you can even see a flock of gulls (probably somewhere about a mile away from my lens circling perhaps over the Silver Lake reservoir).

Unfortunately I kept getting an error trying to upload the 350″ x 38″ version to WordPress, which wouldn’t accept the file despite its 5.4 megs being well within established maximum size parameters. So the file connected to the thumbnail below represents a half-full-sized version at 175″ x 19″ — still pretty awesome if I do say so myself.

And along the theme “Where There’s A Will There’s A Way,” I’ve bypassed WordPress and gone ahead and FTP’d the full-size file to the server, viewable in all its 25294 x  2739 pixel glory. Hope you enjoy it (and I hope its loading doesn’t slow down the internest as a whole).

As evidenced by discovering two relatively fresh piles on the parkway today while sweeping up the frontyard and sidewalk, either one dog-walker or more have become perfectly OK with their pooch pooping in front of our house and then failing to remove the fecal matter.

As such I’m mulling over the following options for signage and could use guidance among the following three I’m considering:

  1. Please scoop your dog’s poop
  2. If you’re not a dick, up the dogshit you will pick
  3. Circumstance and a dogged (no pun intended) sense of righteousness will eventually conspire to allow me to catch you not cleaning up your dog’s dungheap. So by all means, go ahead and let your pooch crap in front of my house — again. But be warned: when that glorious day of reckoning arrives, I shall race down like winged vengeance upon the steaming pile, palm it from where it lays and do my level best to decorate the back of your head with it.

No. 1 is respectful and direct, but I like No. 2’s Yoda-esque truth. No. 3, though, is very, very satisfying, but would require a pretty large piece of cardboard, hope that the offender isn’t too short-attention spanned, and probably a good lawyer to help get me acquitted of any assault charges. Thoughts?

Pepper Cat and Ranger Dog in the latest episode of their occasional series of adorable inter-species interactions. In this segment we find the two sharing the study club chair with Pepper ingratiating himself upon Ranger, who makes a great and willing pillow:

Lest we continue to forget, contrary to popular belief (click for the bigger pictures):

1) A Class II Bike Lane is NOT the designated location to stand your cans on trash day no matter how it might seem to ignorant people to be the perfect perfect place to do so.

2) A Class I Bike Path is neither an off-leash dog park, nor the place for three dogs and their two inconsiderate entitled guardians to hogwalk five abreast across both lanes — especially when said people freak out and get mad at me when they FINALLY hear my bell just after this snap was taken, even though I began urgently ringing it more than 100 yards back.

Just a vid* I got with The Bink during his surprise visit Friday afternoon to the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

* Sorry for its small dimensions. I had to shrink it down to make the file size fall with WordPress’ parameters.

Instead of the usual double loop around the Silver Lake reservoir, I detoured down to the LA River to ride the new extension of its bikeway, coming back toward Silver Lake using the “super secret” ped/bike path that parallels the southbound lanes of the 110 Freeway. Then I came up and over Elysian Park past Dodger Stadium and rolled Sunset Boulevard the rest of the way home. Great morning. Great ride.