Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Mysteries of the Attic II



@11 PM Monday 8-20. All "weekend" i've been very tired. The apartment was slowly filling with some sort of smoke, kinda like cigarettes but not only. Sunday around midnight i tried to start my Holmes True Hepa filter with three 20 dollars each sub-micronic fiberglass filters (two of them are 2 month old and i vacuum them weekly) and multiple carbon prefilters. It was smelling like burnt oil.

So i went into the attic to see what's going on. Two of the one way valves where stuck open, the one at my bathroom exhaust and the one for the attic. (I installed four 4 inch valves under one of the 6 inch vents, those designed for laundry driers, one for each exhaust and one for the attic). In top of those just under the vent there is a computer fan. The fan was stopped since the last few days i saw the attic valve open and i thought because of the heat there is too much thermal flow already. But the valve was stuck open. So the bad smell from the attic and the smoke from my neighbor was back flowing in the bathroom. (The valve at the other end of the pipe above the bathroom shown above was bent as well.) But i noticed there was a lot of dust inside the pipe near the valve. I quickly fixed those and suddenly the air in the apartment was much clearer and i started feeling better too.

So i came back inside and i opened the filter fan and i saw one of the bearings overheated and all the oil burned out and spread inside the housing. I oiled those 1 cm inner diameter bearings with motor oil and cleaned the housing. Like i did last year. They got some rings with cotton inside where you put the oil. The bronze bearings were tight, no sign of wearing. I started the filter, at 2 AM i went to bed.

AT 6:30 my wife went to work and i woke up and started thinking of what i saw last night in the attic. I went back in there with a dust mask and looked inside that pipe. It had a huge amount of dust with oil in it. And it was smelling like burnt oil. Probably because i oiled the tiny motor of the fan in the bathroom because it was too noisy. Those bearings have a inner diameter of about 5 mm and i never saw them wearing out. So i took the whole thing apart, whased the 3 meter 3 inch flexible pipes with laundry detergent in the ... bathtub eliminated an extra piece of 2 meters of pipe (it was way too long), inside, with a brush tied to a stick, and put it back together in about 3 hours. I was completely exhausted with no power left to breath. I couldn't read on the computer monitor. I was thinking about going to the hospital but in the end i fell asleep for a little bit.

I've been thinking, when planes go around at 70 mph with the flaps down and the engine revved up as they are so much doing these days they can vibrate those pipes and valves and make all that dust to back-flow in the bathroom. But the fan under the vent sucks everything out of the pipes and creates a negative pressure in them. But the fan was stopped in the last few days.

I just remembered those Harleys @midnight last night at the appartment complex across the street thundering for minutes, it seemed like they would never stopped their engines after they arrived.

(Or the dust blowers in the parking lot going for hours on Tuesday and blowing asphalt dust in the attic too.)

When i moved here that flexible pipe from the bathroom exhaust was laying on the attic floor where is the intake for the attic, opening above the kitchen window and i moved it near the others near the 6 inch vent in the top of the roof. (There is a 3 inch chimney too for it going through the roof but ... only outside! Nothing inside, just the plywood.)

The @20 year old dishwasher just stoped. And it smells like burnt oil too. I think i should oil those pump motor bearings but i'm gonna look for some bearing oil with pressure additives and no detergent or maybe i should try white mineral oil, from what i just read on the internet, motor oil is not good for electric motor hydro-static bearings.

There is no way metal came out of those axles inside those fan motors. It is possible from the dishwasher or the microwave/exhaust in the kitchen, but from what i remember when i washed that turbine from the microwave there was no play at the axle when i re-installed it. At the Holmes filter most of the load from the turbine is axial and there is a tiny teflon washer that takes that load and it's still there.

But there is a huge number of planes flying above usually under legal altitude limits. There was one that passed in just a few seconds at 1 PDT today, at low speed and probably just above the roof. The cars at @5 PM are in the hundreds per hour although it is not justified by the number of houses or size of the street.

The skin on my face, hands, legs, seems very tight. I noticed that every time i come in contact all day with these bad smells.

By the way my wife just tried to open the balcony door and there is still a barbecue going on (it was before i started writing this). And every time when i go in the balcony a car comes on the alley from nowhere and a small plane flies above!

Talking about vacuum, one day the flexible hose was too dirty inside and washed it in the tub. (I cover one end and extend it in the tub filled with a few inches with water until no dirty water comes out of it.) Then i didn't want to wait until it completely dried and used it like that. And then i saw the dust was sticking inside. Two of the filters and the collector are washable anyways and then i started vacuuming the apartment with the "wet method", cleaning the hose in the tub every few minutes or so. There is no dust coming out of it and all the dirt gathers in the tub and i just flush it! Then i removed all filters but one and still no dust is coming out of it, but the cleaning power is about three times bigger! It really sucks the s... out of the carpets.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Dinescu şi morţii

Dinescu, acest simpatic dinam al culturii româneşti post-revoluţionare a morţilor, un bucătar şi poet ultramodern, conservaţionist în acelaşi timp, ne aminteşte de o vreme încoace că nu mai are linişte în România de frica uncheşului său Dracula. Al cărui părinte Bram Stocker nu a apacat să-şi vadă opera postumă şi nevândută. Tuturor scriitorilor electronici aş vrea să le amintesc că această memorie de tip Google va rămâne pentru tot restul viitorului nostru şi că procurorii şi judecătorii într-o zi când nu-şi vor mai procura vor începe să iasă din spa-urile în care se bălăcesc cu infractorii să-şi mai vadă de treabă şi vor învăţa să mai dea şi câte un search. Până atunci, Dino, have a piece of my mind.

Dinescu, this charismatic dynamo of the Romanian post-revolutionary culture of the dead, a cook and an ultramodern poet, conservationist in the same time, keeps reminding us all since a while ago that he has no more rest in Romania because of the fear of his uncle Dracula, as stated 6 years ago and shown below. Whose parent Bram Socker died before he could see and sell his posthumous creation. To all electronic writers in Romania i wish to remind that this "Google type memory" will remain for the rest of our future and when the prosecutors and judges will stop procuring for themselves and start getting out of the spas where they relax together with the criminals maybe will start taking care of their normal business they are paid for by the people of Romania, and will also learn how to do a Google search. Until then, Dino, have a piece of my mind.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Scaraoţchi din balcon

De la vecin bineînţeles. Acum în locul lui este un palmier artificial gros cam de 10 cm care aproape atinge acoperişul.

Scara in Romanian means ladder or escalator, it's only one word for both. Like scala in Italian.

From the neighbor's balcony of course. Now in its place there's an artificial palm tree about 10 cm thick that nearly touches the roof's edge.

August 1995

A day i should celebrate. As Yolanda said. Yolanda is a friend of Mart-Maerz-Mârţ family. She and her son came in Oregon just before us. They stayed at the Marts just before us.

With borrwowed money and some little other money i had i went to Tarom with my yellow envelopes with the Green Card Lottery documents to buy two tickets to New York. They only had tickets for a Sunday at the beginning of August. Tarom flight nr. RO13, with a DC10 rented from a Belgium airline replacing the Airbus that crashed at Baloteşti. Captain Michel.

We arrived in New York on August 6. They kept us for 3 hours at the INS. Ron, my new friend from the plane was still waiting for us. With a native american guy. But i already made up my mind. We're still going to Oregon, at my ex-colleague Iulian Mârţ from Bacău. Ron was really disappointed. I still had $600 dollars. (There was a guy in the plane that said he had 100.000 dollars and needed help into smuggling those money through the customs but i refused).

I went to an airline counter in the airport. The price to Oregon, tickets bought on the spot was double of the $600 we had.

So the next day we took the Greyhound, as Iulian told me on the phone. After all i've read the book, Greyhound America. It should have been fun, we're gonna see lots of places. I remember the face of the woman at the counter when i bought the tickets. She gave me a look that in a way defined all that happened later. Bad sign.

Three days, two nights, 8 drivers, 5 buses. And the accident that almost happened that night when i and the guy behind the driver were the only people awake in the bus. The driver fell asleep the bus drifted on the freeway's shoulder and the black guy behind him gently taped him on the shoulder awaking him. He didn't panic and brought the bus back on the second lane. I remember something that really shocked me. He started laughing! Never stopped to catch his breath. Now i know why, the fear of being fired was bigger than his need for a comforting break.

On August 10 there we were, at the Greyhound station in Salem. Veronica was waiting for us, she took a little time from her work at that high tech silicon foundry (i forgot the company name, Wafertech i think), gave me a hug and another bad preview, whispering condescendingly in my ear: Gigi, Gigi... And then she took us directly to the Social Security office in Salem, watched everything we wrote in the applications, went with us at the counter and told the clerk that we're only temporary here... Although we had on the passports the stamp from INS at the airport that said "processed for I551", that is permanent residency... Which i told the clerk in plain English. The Mexican woman at the counter with the passports and applications in her hand looked at me, looked at Veronica, at me again then wrote something on the applications and two weeks later the cards came with the inscription "No right to work" on them. Veronica said something that she had a friend somewhere who's gone help us to get permits for work but the next day under some pretext i secretely went with Angela to Portland (fearing that they wouldn't let us) straight to the downtown Social Security office, i explained them the whole situation, they gave us new applications and in another two weeks new cards arrived, this time the right ones. And i was exercising my signature in English with the first name first on some yellow pieces of papers at the Marts so i could sing the cards...

And since then, daily, hourly and weekly hundreds, or thousands of similar situations... Yesterday i called Oregon State Bar Association asking for a referral. Every once in a while i do so. They asked me what i needed a lawyer for. And i told them, in any area of non-violent crime, i think there is no law that has not been broken in our regards.

And then yesterday at the WinCo store, this younger athletic tall blond guy standing at the other check stand checking in the same time so i could see him, with a 6 inch blade hanging on his waist belt. By the way, for many years after we came here WinCo was called Cub Foods...

And i just remembered while staying at the Marts, one day Veronica received the negative result for her breast cancer test...

And i really made my attempts to work around here... Until August 2000 i had 23 jobs... The longest one year... The shortest one day... Some of them are in the Resume with the link in this blog on the lower left area... But that is another story, hope i will be able to share it here...

08/14/2013:

1996, George's (Hirsovescu) House, Salem, Oregon. Cloe (wife), his daughter, Dan Onu, son-in-law (Boeing), Julian Mart, Angela.

Later i found out he was also associated was Associated with Aristotel Popescu, Iaşi, possibly with Peter Kiss, Portland Oregon.