Skip's Metal Art Shop

03/15/2026

03/14/2026

We did breakfast this morning at the Inyokern Cactus & Flame eatery. So far we have had several dinners and a lunch there. All have been pleasant and rewarding eating experiences. This was our first breakfast there and it did not disappoint. My first wife had waffles and I did Country Eggs Benedict (CEB).
We both noted that their coffee is outstanding! My CEB was (as is the case with many of C&F’s offerings) surprisingly different from the Hollandaise sauce drowned EB one is typically served at most other breakfast eatery’s. So in lieu of emulsified egg yolks, clarified butter, lemon juice, cayenne pepper and a prayer, C&F’s “Country” EB involves white sausage gravy over perfectly poached eggs and sausage patties on English muffin halves. It was a tasty delight!
Both my CEB and Denise’s big waffles came with what I shall call “evolved roasted potatoes” (almost as good as properly cooked hash browns - that nobody in this valley can do) which we both enjoyed.

02/21/2026

11/17/2025

Technically, THIS is PRATTLING

07/05/2025

We (and our dog, Snickers) enjoy the 4th of July spectacle each year but things seem to be getting out of hand here in Ridgecrest lately. I am now of a mind to ban (declare illegal) ALL fireworks (including “Safe and Sane” ones). How do YOU feel about this?

05/28/2025

This I gotta see!!

Pro pickleball players holding exhibition at Leroy Jackson Park


https://www.ridgecrestca.com/sports/pro-pickleball-players-holding-exhibition-at-leroy-jackson-park/article_1645923c-9da9-449c-98b9-6e67e23f090f.html

01/18/2025

Our winter garden is doing it’s broccoli thing in spades this year . . .

12/29/2024

Some small Global Warming blessings . . .
Winter broccoli, Swiss Chard, warm Snickers

12/22/2024

Take a Deep Breath . . .

Here’s another weekly potpourri of thoughts and observations about breaking news and Valley things both great and small . . .
—- ————— —-
“Stop being afraid
of what could go wrong,
and start being excited
about what could go right.”� — Tony Robbins
—- ————— —-
I was admittedly flummoxed by the results of our recent election. Mayor Eric Bruen (who I considered an easy shoe-in) lost to Travis Endicott (a relative newbie to the local political scene). It was close but the final count came out in Endicott’s favor. And good for him! So this week we conducted the formal transition and send-off typical of changes in this sphere. I, along the rest of the City Council, graciously welcomed Travis but it was, especially for me, painful to see Eric go.
See, two years ago when I took City Council office I was understandably green and uncertain. Eric was patient and facilitated my integration into the committee structure and protocols and paces of all things City. I found him altogether amazing. He seemed to be half a pace ahead of most events and verbally adroit in recovering from real-time surprises. Indeed, I was in awe of his easy confidence and succinct articulation. It’s like he was born to be our mayor.
Now, It’s always risky to speak in sincere praise of someone experiencing an exit transition without perhaps having it sound too much like a eulogy. So I’ll be careful. This is why I didn’t join-in on the praises at his send-off council meeting. I simply wasn’t prepared to say what was in my heart and didn’t want to sound too awkwardly spontaneous or altogether incoherent. But I tend to write slowly and thoughtfully. So bear with me.
I have had many occasions over the last two years to wince in sympathy with Eric as he suffered hateful and mean-spirited insults and accusations from the direction of the public comment dais and elsewhere. Eric always seemed to bear these assaults with outward equanimity and even graciousness. I have concluded over time that Eric Bruen must have a truly bulletproof ego. And that reflects a special grit that perhaps these days all Ridgecrest mayors might need.
And Ridgecrest has been well served by Eric’s very practical and projected leadership. Indeed, I greatly enjoyed his leadership style. It’s characterized more by boyish enthusiasm rather than stoic seriousness. And because of that his goals became infectious and, with the help of the electorate, were achieved. Judging on where we started and with an eye on where we are now, at the unhappy end of Eric’s shortened tenure, we have indeed come a very long way. Thanks to him. Nice going, Eric. Please stay involved.
—- ————— —-
Skip Gorman
[email protected]

12/14/2024

Virgil and Hector’s Blog

Here’s another episode of the adventures of my old friend, Virgil, and his mystically old dog, Hector, taking a sideways view of things in our high desert valley. Listen . . .
— ———————- —
I stopped-by Virgil’s place the other day. He was in his kitchen typing on an old manual Underwood typewriter. His dog, Hector, was watching him intently and whenever Virgil came to the end of a line and the bell rang, Hector would bark sharply alerting Virgil to backhand the carriage return arm to begin a new line. It went, “Ring-Bark-Zip!” each time. Virgil then glanced at Hector who offered a proud tail-wag of accomplishment.
“You just watch,” Virgil said. “When I’m done with this blog, Hector here will try to take credit for it.”
“I’m sure he inspires you”, I said. “By the way, what are you writing about?”
“Oh, it’s a grab-bag blog,” Virgil answered, while still typing. “I don’t write these very often so when I do I need to visit lots of different issues. Right now I’m offering my theory about all those cocky UFO drones over New Jersey way. As I see it, it’s another ‘China balloon’ exercise. You just wait and see. Those rascals over in the PRC have a squadron of them flying over Trump’s New Jersey golf course mostly to find out if he’s really a single-digit handicap golfer or if he cheats by kicking his ball from the rough to the fairway or something like that.” (Ring-Bark-Zip!)
“And then, once they get it all on film they’ll pay off some corrupt woke Attorney General to indict him and legally harass the poor guy for the next couple of years. The running lights on these drones are a dead giveaway. Why would any green three-eyed Vogons from Jupiter or somewhere wire-up their flying saucers to blink in strict legal conformance to FAA requirements. That wouldn’t make any darned sense!” (Ring-Bark-Zip!)
“Virgil,” I said. “It wouldn’t make any sense to expect Trump to be golfing at night either. Those drones are launching from near where they’re seen but it’s more likely the PRC or Iran or North Korea are testing our defense systems with a mother ship just offshore. We have capable high-powered lasers that would bring them down easy enough if only Biden and his DEI pentagon would just do their darned jobs! (Ring-Bark-Zip!) Virgil, are you typing what I’m saying?”
“Not deliberately”, Virgil said. “I worry that Biden may just give a preemptive presidential pardon to every illegal migrant who conned their way across our border and will then illegally vote as they are told to. I wonder what Trump would do about that? They would represent about 10 million new Democrat votes come the next election for sure and the Republicans, even if they somehow resurrected Ronald Regan himself, would not be able to surmount that many totally contrived added votes.” (Ring-Bark-Zip!)
“Virgil,” I said with alarm. “Where exactly are you going to send this blog? Nobody’s gonna print or publish or host this blog of yours if it includes wacky stuff like that and anyway you just may be giving Biden some kooky ideas he hasn’t thought of yet. You better stop.”
“Nope,” Virgil said with stubborn finality. “YOU can just stop!” (Ring-Bark-Zip!). “But I AM going to write that I hope to heck Donald Trump survives long enough to at least be inaugurated. I worry that there are enough dark and cagey big shots in what used to be “The Loyal Opposition”, who would otherwise be headed for prison, to bump him off any way they can and make it look like a surreal act of God or at the hands of some planted patsy who in-turn gets quickly whacked like Oswald. Remember him?” (Ring-Bark-Zip!).
“Now, I’ll finish this off with a flourish”, Virgil said. “Looks like Hector here might be due for another sardine fast for the next three days. I know he’s not all that fond of sardines but he’s getting a little thick around the middle and these sardine fasts always help trim him down some.” (Ring-Silence-Zip!).
—- ————— —-
Skip Gorman
([email protected])

12/01/2024

It’s All About Food and Family

Here’s another episode of the adventures of my old friend, Virgil, and his mystically old dog, Hector, taking a sideways view of things in our high desert valley. Listen . . .
— ———————- —
I stopped by Virgil’s place the other day. He was in his vegetable garden snipping-off all the brown asparagus stalks in his asparagus boxes. His old dog, Hector, was setting nearby watching two resident ravens fussing loudly up in their tall Aleppo pine trees. Virgil ignored me as I paused in the cool brisk early morning desert air and charged my batteries for another day.
“Virgil,” I said, “it looks like one of your chickens is missing. Don’t tell me that you and Hector had chicken yesterday instead of turkey for your Thanksgiving dinner.”
“We had ham!” Virgil exclaimed, “A big Cooper’s hawk had the chicken. I came across the hawk chowing down on Mamie over by the barn. The hawk was big so it was a female and I’m sure Mamie never knew what hit her. Later, except for some light brown feathers on the ground, the hawk had taken what was left of Mamie up to her nest in one of these trees. No loss. Mamie had stopped laying eggs anyway.”
“Me and Hector are flattered to have a breeding pair of Cooper’s nesting out here. they are remarkable birds and seem to enjoy fussing with our local ‘unkindness’ of ravens who live in those other trees. We enjoy watching the hawk and the ravens chase each other all over the place. It’s always a heck of a show.”
“Me and Hector generally have a nice ham for Thanksgiving. Right along with some special cranberry sauce and lots of Stove Top stuffing straight out of the box covered with fine turkey gravy. Shucks! Just because the marquee protein happens to be a ham instead of a turkey doesn’t mean that you can’t have all the turkey’s traditional sides along with it!”
“And Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without Stove Top stuffing! We’ve tried a lot of your fussy gourmet stuffing concoctions like smoked peacock testicles (yuck!) with dried oyster hearts. I use the stuffing mix right out of the box but use chicken stock instead of water to cook it. Our gravy comes straight out of a packet too. It all comes together wonderfully. Best side on earth!”
“I do spend a little time on my own special cranberry sauce, though. I begin with some clean fresh cranberries and cook them until they split and soften up. Then I add small pineapple chunks and a few other secret things and allow it all to mature in the fridge overnight. Couldn’t be better!”
“The ham is a snap if it’s fresh (never frozen) and cooked just right in a properly calibrated oven and with an accurate meat thermometer. I start with a medium sized uncooked (not smoked) bone-in ham and encourage cooking moisture at all costs. This puppy is our main leftover far into next week and gets better each day. Hector really appreciates the bone. He always buries it in the compost pile. That dog has a real sophisticated sense of taste.”
“On special occasions like Thanksgiving I like to compliment the best meal of the year with a little well-matched wine. Now, I don’t imagine that you’ll approve, but my Thanksgiving dinner wineglass is always filled with half Manischewitz concord grape wine and half Vernor’s ginger ale. That stuff goes with ham and stuffing like nobody’s business! Hector here won’t touch it, though. He still insists on a neat shot of 10-year old PiggyBack rye whiskey in his water bowl. Puts him right to sleep, every time (with a smile on his face). It’d kill him if he wasn’t immortal. Special kind of dog, Hector. And how about you?” Virgil asked.
I told him that we went to my sister’s Thanksgiving bash in Eagle Rock. We passed around my newest little grand nephew, Miles, and talked too much and ate too much and hugged too much. My ears are still ringing and my throat is sore but it was all grand family loving fun.
—- ————— —-
Skip Gorman
([email protected])

11/24/2024

Red Hat Day . . .

Here’s another episode of the adventures of my old friend, Virgil, and his mystically old dog, Hector, taking a sideways view of things in our high desert valley. Listen . . .
— ———————- —
I stopped by Virgil’s place the other day. Hector greeted me with a doggy smile and a wagging tail. Virgil was in his chicken yard trying to weigh each of his two chickens on a digital kitchen scale which he had set on an inverted box.
“If these chickens would just sit still for a couple seconds I’ll have their exact weights each within an ounce. Myrtle here weighs the same as she did yesterday and so does Mamie. So that means neither one has actually laid an egg in the last 24 hours. And THAT means that no sneaky fuzzy critter has snuck-in and STOLE any of their eggs in the last 24 hours.”
I closed his deductive loop by asking WHY his chickens weren’t laying any eggs lately. “I can’t rightly say”, Virgile answered. “I feed them the same as I always have and they both SEEM healthy enough but neither has bothered to provide us with a SINGLE egg for about three weeks. I just don’t get it!”
“Plus, Myrtle and Mamie aren’t alone in their non-chicken-like behavior either. I know of other coops in the valley that are also completely eggless. Now, I know chickens are too feather-brained to organize a general strike but maybe they are sensing a coming earthquake or one of the biblical plagues or something like that. Who knows? Maybe the local chickens are just too dang sensitive.”
I offered that it IS an interesting coincidence that the egg laying all stopped exactly when Donald Trump was declared the winner of our recent presidential election. “Maybe all chickens are somehow woke or politically liberal”, I theorized, “and they were traumatized into their barren state by the election results and your red MAGA cap and your whistling good mood.”
Now, that made old Hector sit-up and go on alert. “You just spoke a Cosmic Truth”, Virgil said to me, motioning to Hector. “He knows Truth and acknowledges it. He’s very peculiar like that. Always has been. But well, well, well! Who knew that our Valley’s clucking birdbrained chickens were all so altogether Woke?!”
“It may be that your bright red MAGA cap has triggering them into a retaliatory chicken spitefulness,” I said. “And it certainly makes sense that, at least when dealing with us male humans, an effective counteroffensive to the painful insensitivity of a winner’s celebration is to cut off his breakfast. You’ve got to admire their strategy. See, a man’s breakfast has always been his weakness. Fuss with a man’s breakfast and you’re fussing in deep water indeed!”
“So it’s all a dang inter-species shoving match, is it?!”, Virgil exclaimed hotly. “Well I can do breakfast without their dang hostage eggs as long as they can hold them all in! And I’ll proudly wear my MAGA cap while eating my dang toast and butter or cornmeal mush or whatever instead. In fact, I’ll have my red cap breakfast while watching Fox News in the morning and then wear my red cap while driving my internal combustion pickup truck wherever I want!”
Virgil was hot and breathing hard now and waving his arms and yelling in all capitol letters. Hector had quietly moved over to the compost pile to lie down in it’s warm dark loam as Virgil loudly held forth accepting this worldwide chicken challange on behalf of all proud Trump Americans everywhere.
“Keep your danged eggs!”, he hollered at his chickens. “I’ll just keep my red MAGA cap on tight and continue being a patriotic God-fearing American Trumper except from now on I’ll be noisy and emphatic about it! And 56 days from now, on January 20th, 2025, I and all the good folks hereabouts that feel as I do will have a healthy chicken salad for breakfast and we will all wear our red MAGA caps proudly and openly ALL DAY LONG!”
I couldn’t help but notice that Hector had alerted and sat right up, smiling.
—- ————— —-
Skip Gorman
([email protected])