We Now Return to Our Regular Programming

Well, that concludes my series of "Special Edition - Limited Time Only" blog updates.

I sure hope you enjoyed them as I was really pleased with myself for all of the clever things I came up with!

Alas...It would seem that by not having left any permanent updates on here for the last few months, some outside source has taken the liberty of going through and putting a bunch of links into my previous blog updates.

As you and I both know, I don't bother with links. (Loose translation - I haven't asked the kids how to do this yet.) Besides, I have no problem with shamelessly promoting another's blog (Sheila, Connie, Erin, etc.) and then making you go find them the hard way. :)

On a high note, I've finally gotten around to getting a computer at home so there's more time for me to get on. (I'd left UPS so they might frown upon me being on one of their computers doing a blog update at 2am like I used to.) That being said, there's a good chance that there may be some pictures being added.

On a side note: the over $200 digital camera I'd mentioned buying earlier this year has been lost already thank you kindly David.

On a low note, the Internet cable is once again strung from the pole near my patio and stretched all the way to the house. This summer I'd untangled 4 previous cable companies cables and wrapped them up on bike hooks I'd stuck into the post so I was hoping to avoid having yet another one up there. Alas... as I live on a rock, I also tilled up 3 other cables that were buried in shallow fashion, so we agreed this was the best option.


So...

Doodles, I do have a few things I'd like to put on here about the neighbor. In fact, I keep thinking I should come up with a nice little poem about him. I think it might be due to how nicely I could pair "bludgeon" with "curmudgeon".

I'll be sure to update you on the most recent series of events even though they are a bit old now. Things have been peaceful between us for the last month or so. (He's off somewhere warm with Whatever Her Name Is and their stupid little dog.)

Wherever that may be, I kind of hope his camper blows up. ;)

To everyone else, Merry Christmas!

Something Wicked This Way Comes?

With the temperature noticeably dropping and the Sumac and Maples already changing color, I find myself thinking about winter.

Not the upcoming winter, but winters from my childhood. (Although I really do need to get one of my snow blowers home from Dad's place so I have one here this year. If the precipitation continues throughout the winter at the same rate we've been getting it, when the snow melts in the spring I'll have driftwood coming up to my place for my fire pit use!)

When we were small, before we were allowed to go play on the snow hills we were so bundled up it was difficult to move. We'd put on those long socks that mom had for us by pulling them up to our chins, then we'd apply the layer of long undies, followed by our winter weather clothes, our snowmobile suits, our 80lb boots, and the gloves, scarves, and face masks over that.

Then we'd take our blue sleds (because they went farther than the long red ones) and race and/or attempt to surf down the hills, and use them as shields during snowball fights - or for a quick makeshift roof to the snow forts.

And then, when our 50 lbs of clothes had sponged up about 10 times their weight in melted snow (and the chin-high socks had somehow completely worked down the entire lengths of our bodies to become an uncomfortable wadded up mass between our toes and the front of our insanely heavy boots) we'd go in the basement door and stand there for 15 minutes while our eyes recovered from snow-blindness.

Then we'd pull off our wet snowsuits and ball up little snowballs from the snow still on our clothing and set those on top of the wood burning heater we had and watch them sizzle and hiss and completely evaporate in a matter of seconds while we enjoyed the warmth provided by the fire within.

And we were very fortunate children, for The Fairy of Soggy Winter Clothing would stop by and wave her magic wand and our clothes would usually be clean and dry and ready for us by the next time we were ready to get them dirty.

And even though I still love the thrill of hopping on a snow tube and flying face first down a snow covered hill toward a tree trunk... or a fence line...or the jump conveniently prepared for us by the thoughtful young men who installed ditches on County Road 9 for our winter flying pleasure, I admit that I'm in no real hurry for Winter to show up.

To be, or not to be...nice.

I admit to being slightly disappointed that nobody violently waved their hand to get my attention and then enthusiastically jumped up and requested that I tell them the updated story about The Neighbor. I suspect that you either knew I was going to tell it anyway, or you were worried that I'd use more naughty language than usual in my post.

Either way you'd be right.

So, if you are offended by 'effenheimers', or the Foxtrot part of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot (aka wtf!), please bypass this particular blog update. :)

So then, here we go...

I'm one of those people that was raised by parents who said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

I find this to be pretty solid advice, and have recently been passing the same wisdom down to my own children. (I was tired of hearing them call each other names and told them I'd be feeding them soap if they didn't stop. Of course, they knew I wouldn't... but they thought they found a way to outsmart me until they found out that I also speak the ancient and long lost language of "Pig Latin". So, instead of calling each other "retard" and "moron", they now call each other "re-re" and "mor-mor". I can't help but to find this funny.)

All that being said, I consider myself to be a pretty nice guy.
I like to do nice things for other people. I'm just like that.

However, there's always people out there who just rub you the wrong way. People that just give you a not-so-good gut feeling, or that you somehow instinctively avoid.

The Neighbor is one of Those People. (To me, at least.)

His name is Alvin. (I think.) I just call him Al...which he apparently hears as Alpha Male.

He has a wife and a dog.

I never remember his wife's name as she's one of those nondescript people who just blend in and you don't really notice unless they're with someone you recognize...or with their stupid little dog.

I don't suppose she much cares for me anymore than he does, because one day I got home from a 13 hour work day at the same time she let Stupid Little Dog out the back door of their place. (Our houses are arranged in such a way that their back door is visible from my front door.) As I was walking up to my house, Stupid Little Dog ran over and snarled at me with her little fangs all barred and menacing and giving off as much loathing hatred as one might get from a stupid little dog.

Well, instead of opening the door the rest of the way and calling the mutt back over to their yard, Whatever Her Name Is stealthily backed into her place without closing the door to alert me to her presence - and there she watched my reaction to this scenario.

I wasn't in the mood. I squared off, bent toward the dog a bit, and looked straight at the snarling little bitch (which dogs take as a sign of aggression) and said (speaking loudly enough for Whatever Her Name Is to hear) "Just try it you ugly little mutt. I will soooo fucking kick you..." Then I stood up straight, took a couple steps toward the dog to send it scampering away, shot Whatever Her Name Is a glance that let her know that I not only knew she was there but that I also wasn't much impressed by her, and then I turned and entered my house.

Beer with me. (Because it's hot and humid and I could really go for a cold one right now.) This all ties in with the events which took place on Friday, the last.

OK then. Details have been satisfactorily placed. Let us now proceed with the story.

Last Friday I arrived home from work and decided to attack the gardening project. I had a steak thawed out so, after checking to be sure the slightest breeze was blowing into my face as I faced The Neighbor's house, I lit a fire in the fire pit near where I was swinging my pickax.

I suspected The Neighbor would be his normal nosy self and would be sure to check that I wasn't burning anything "green", so I used a couple logs. I figured this would be acceptable to both parties as The Neighbor had, earlier this very month, told me that I could have the firewood if I cut down the huge Ash tree in his back yard. (Like I have a shortage of wood or something. He's just too cheap to pay to have it done - but wise enough to not attempt it himself.) I also made sure the fire pit had the cover in place so that he might be even more satisfied.

He wasn't.

At least I saw him coming this time. His ninja skills are either fading or my Spider Sense tingled more than the last two times he approached. (If "Spider Sense" is a trademark of Spider-Man, Marvel Comics, or any other entity...please accept my apology and insert "fucktard detector" in that spot.)

At this point I should maybe mention that he was the former head of security at the local casino and that he's probably used to people my age jumping at his every whim. (I know other things he's not aware of my knowing...like the back part of his shed isn't even on his property, and his daughter has fake breasts.)

So, upon noticing that his approach wasn't going to be undetected, he blustered out, "I'm really starting to think you're intentionally trying to piss me off!!!"

Since I already knew why he was foaming around the mouth, I calmly stated, "Al, I've done some checking. Fire pits are allowed in town, especially when they're covered and used for cooking."

He exclaimed, "There's city ordinances. I've called the cops!"

I said, "OK. When they get here, if they tell me to put it out I will happily do so. Until then, I'm going to let it burn so I can grill on it."

That pissed him off even further. Apparently he thought I have a criminal past and my seeming lack of interest about his life is the result of my own desire to go unnoticed.

So the conversation went back and forth, with him doing his best to hold onto his self-appointed Alpha Male status by demanding that I give in to his wishes. I (still calmly, at this point) told him that I'm sorry that he doesn't like the smell of wood smoke, but "The smoke isn't blowing toward your house and I'm going to be grilling here in a little bit."

He asked, "Why can't you use the other fire pit so the smoke blows toward his house?" (meaning the only other neighbor on the street) At this point I was done listening to his snivelling, for if the smoke was bad enough to bother him, why on earth would he want it going to our other neighbor's place?

I said, "Because I'm not working over there and I wouldn't be over there to supervise it!"

He shouted, "How would you like it if I had a fire going and the smoke was going into your house?!"

I paused in my work so as to look directly into his eyes. "I guess I'd have the common sense to close my windows."

After a quick survey of my house, where he was disappointed to discover that my windows were indeed closed... and my doors as well...he snarled, "I don't have to put up with this! I'm going to get the other neighbors together and we're going to drive you out!!!" (Is it werewolves, vampires, mad scientists, or warlocks they do that to? Whatever. If any of them need a pitchfork to carry, I have a couple they can use. I even have enough yard tools for the neighbor that The Neighbor would like me to send smoke toward to use - if that particular neighbor should care to participate in my beheading, or drive out, or whatever the assembled lynch mob plans for me.) "I've lived here for 30 years!", the neighbor stated with satisfaction. (Like we were both Union employees and he had higher seniority or something.)

I thought, "Oh? Well, good! You've been here long enough for the cops to know you're an asshole! Shoot, I've only been here for 4 years and I pretty much figured it out right away!"

I didn't say that. I just went back to my digging and said, "Go home, Al."

He yelled, "I'll come up here with a fire hose and..."

"Piss off, Al."

"FUCK YOU!"

"Fuck you, Al."

"How long does it take to grill on your fire pit?"

"Maybe five minutes."

"Then why has it been going for the last three hours?!" (I'd probably been home for half an hour at this point.) "When I looked up here a bit ago, the flames were shooting up to here!" (He indicated a spot about chest high.)

"Because I'm not making a damn hot dog or something I'm sticking directly in flames! There's two logs on the fire. When they've burned enough to where they're ready to cook on, I'll do so!"

"I don't care what you're burning!" (Oh? Then why are you here?) "Why can't you just load the branches up and haul them out? You back that trailer up here about 50 times a week!"

Now here I have to admit that I was a bit pleased he's noticed my trailer backing skills. I realize it's only because he's so concerned that something might happen to his precious camper, but it still makes me happy. (even though the number is exaggerated by about 47 to 49)

I guess he wasn't listening to the part about me using logs. Oh well. I said, "Because I can't grill in the trailer!"

He said a couple other things I don't recall right off hand because they weren't worth hearing at the time he said it, so I finally said, "Get off my property, Al."

He sputtered, "This is a public road! I can be anywhere on here and..."

I'd looked up from my work at the first sentence.
Damn. He was indeed on the road. He didn't need to finish his sentence because he was right.

I said, "Oh. And so you are. Well...stand there then. I don't care."

This, of course, sent him homeward. There was no way in hell he was about to do something I told him to do. (It didn't shut him up, but at least he was moving the right direction.) He paused, made a sweeping arm gesture toward the end of my little dead-end street and said, "Maybe you should consider cleaning your area up! Look at this! It's a public road and you've got a lawnmower, a tiller, a..."

I said, "Right. Because there's just soooo much drive through traffic!" (For those of you who haven't been following along, my street is just an alleyway that at some point The Fucktard, um...Neighbor, had somehow gotten the city to pave and call a street. There's no turn around at the end of it, and I own both of the properties at the end so there's no reason for anyone not coming to my place to even drive up.)

"That doesn't matter! It's still a public street!"

I, more than anyone, am aware of this. This is why it annoys me to have to weed the cracks and leaf blower all the dirt down it so I can load it up and haul it out a couple times a year. I somehow figure this should maybe be the cities responsibility. So I just gave him the silent treatment on that one.

I guess he wasn't done yet, for as he got to the area that divides our property he yelled back, "You better know where this property ends!"

I said, "You're the one that pulled out the markers! If you want to know where it is, you can pay to have them put back!"

"I KNOW WHERE IT IS!!!", he blustered.

I mumbled, "Good. Keep your fucking dog off my property while you're at it."

Oops. He heard me. I suppose my voice does carry a little on a windless day when smoke wouldn't be blowing...

He blew up. "YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG!"

"I never have touched your dog."

"YOU BETTER NEVER TOUCH THAT DOG OR IT'LL BE THE LAST DOG YOU EVER TOUCH!!!"

That sounded a bit like a threat to me. The ironic part is, during the entire conversation up to this point, I had felt like he was trying to get me to slip and make some kind of a threat toward him!

I responded, "Like I said...I've never touched your dog. But I'm telling you right now that if that stupid little mutt ever does actually bite me, I'll kick the little fuck across the gawd-damned street!"

Then he went into some kind of maniacal, nonsensical babbling that I couldn't understand, which was just as good as not saying anything at all. I suppose I could have even pretended it was an animal making the noise, but then I would have felt obligated to track the thing down and put it out of misery.

So, not to be any more of an ass myself, I went in and brought out my steak and grilled it up. I put out the fire and sat there and enjoyed the steak all by itself. (See, mom and dad? You don't really have to eat more than just meat!) As I was bringing in the dishes, The Neighbor walks around the front of his camper, looks at me and says (in non-gibberish), "I hope you choke on it!"

Whoa! Delayed reaction there, buddy! I'm already done.

I said. "All right."

He apparently was still hoping to set me off, so he said it again.
And again I said, "All right."

Then things were quiet for a while. He was doing his thing in his yard and I was doing my thing in mine. For some reason my Fucktard Detector told me I should shoot a glance his direction, and when I did it was just in time to see him bury the head of a spade in the yard between our places. I said, "Make sure that's on your side, Al." (At this point I really didn't care if I pissed him off or not.)

If he said anything, I couldn't tell you what it was as I would have already tuned him out.

The day went on, and damn! Did I ever get stuff done! By the time I was ready to quit for the evening I had a full trailer of roots and unwanted growth to haul off to the community compost site, and so I did. (Thankfully, because a fresh batch of wood shavings had been dumped up there by the local tree service so I scored a trailer full of free mulch.)

But I had to chuckle when I looked over toward where The Neighbor had been working...

He had lined up 3 railroad ties, his utility trailer, and his riding lawnmower to divide our property. (Maybe he thinks the dead grass will help him sell the place faster. If dead grass is a selling point, I'll happily park my utility trailer, all 3 cars, all 5 of my riding lawnmowers, and however many push mowers I have scattered around the countryside on my lawn to help sell his place!)

Seriously. I'm heartbroken. I guess I can't bag his leaves and haul them out for free again this fall.

And then, on Saturday, I was awakened by the knock of a policeman at my door. (In describing this person to Steve - who I've mentioned in several earlier posts - he thought it was the town's Chief of Police. At any rate, the guy was friendly as could be.

I answered the door in a towel (I hadn't got up for the day yet) and invited him in. He said he was there with a complaint and asked if I was expecting it. (Well, yes. Yes I was. Otherwise I would have asked if he had a search warrant or if I was under arrest instead of inviting him in. I blame movies for knowing to do this.)

I just chuckled and said, "Yes. Hold on a sec while I get dressed."

Here he chuckled...and granted me permission to do so.

He started off by saying the complaint was from the neighbor, and that the neighbor "admitted to saying some things he shouldn't have said." (Gee. Ya think?)

So then he went over the complaint, and the city ordinances as they pertain to fire pits. (Turns out the firefighter I talked to was wrong. Fire pits actually aren't legal, they're just "tolerated" -because "everyone enjoys sitting around one." - Fucktard excluded, of course.)

I, in turn, just gave a quick apology and explanation to the officer. I said, "I did some grilling on it. It's the only day of the week I don't work and I was trying to get things done at home and enjoy myself at the same time. It shouldn't be a problem any more as I'm done working in the area where the fire pit is. I think the only reason there was a problem at all is because he's old and nosy and the fire pit was where he could see it, since the guy down there (pointing toward a house not visible from The Neighbor's place) also had a fire going yesterday. At any rate, you have my word that I won't have another fire where the pit is now. The crazy thing about this is he was an absolute dick each of the 3 times he came up here and he never once said 'please'!"

The officer laughed, thanked me for my time, and apologized for waking me up.

"Not a problem!" said I. "I've got a trailer full of mulch to put down and probably 30-some more plants to put in!"

He laughed again, said "Well, enjoy your day off!" and off he went.

This would have been a good spot to end this rather lengthy blog post, put there's updated material to add.

I gave David a quick run-down of the events when I picked him up on Saturday and told him to make sure he had Todd stay off of The Neighbors property.

On Monday morning, when I arrived home from work, there was an additional railroad tie added to the line - and when I walked into the house, David told me that The Neighbor had been out there for over an hour with some other guy who was wearing a safety vest and had a tape measure, and The Neighbor was pointing and directing and pacing off the line in huge steps...

If you knew the guy at all, you would totally be able to picture him doing this.

And you would smile because it would strike you funny.




Damn spellcheck! "Fucktard" is too a word! :)

Kill the Messenger!!!

Wow! Eventful weekend!

On Friday, "The Neighbor" and I made it known what we think of each other. There was some language used that our moms most likely would not approve of, (Moooommm! He started it!) and before the day was over he had lined up 4 railroad ties, his riding lawnmower, and his utility trailer as a makeshift fence to divide out property.

Oh! And he called the cops on me, too.

Not only is this town beautiful, it's finally starting to be fun! :)
(I rather enjoy telling the story. Let me know if you'd like to hear it.)



On Sunday I received a call from David from his mom's phone asking if I'd come and get him. A half tank of gas and 1.5 hours late to work later... (again - more detail available on request)

Oh! And she called the cops on me, too!
(OK, fine. I'm just kidding on that one.)


But Saturday is the focal day for today's blog.
And so it begins...


I received a text message last Thursday which said some friends from college were going to be getting together on Saturday, and they were wondering if I was interested in joining them. Their plan was to hit the buffet at the casino in Redwood Falls and then go to the outdoor concert.

The last time I'd seen two of these friends was 3 years ago (one now lives in MA) so they didn't really need to entice me with food.

So, after a solid day of yard work (which I find highly relaxing even with The Neighbor next door) I got cleaned up and pulled on some of David's clothes (because he was still gone and couldn't complain about the switch from my shredded Ralph Lauren jean shorts to his overpriced current name-brand khakis) and off I went to Redwood.

I pulled into the parking lot, and after driving up and down every aisle anywhere near where I wanted to be - I finally just parked way out in the middle of nowhere where nobody else would be likely to park. (Easy to find the car that way.) As I walked along toward the hotel where we all planned to meet, I noticed there were many empty parking spots much closer to the building than where I was parked. They all had signs in front of them that read "Reserved for Tribal Elders". I hope that all the Tribal Elders who chose to not park in the vacant, convenient spots were out looking for a groundskeeper.

We met up on the 6th floor of the hotel part of the casino as one of the friends and her husband had rented a room there. They had invited some friends from their town to join our gathering, so I met some new people, which is almost always a good time.

When everyone that was supposed to be there had finally shown up - we headed down to Main Floor...purchased out tickets for the concert... then wandered off to the buffet where we all lined up along a long table like we were in the dining hall of some grand castle.

Upon attaining a satisfactory "buzz kill", we wandered out to the fenced-in amphitheater area. We received our "Admission Paid" bracelets upon entry. A bit further up we received our "Over 21 and will be drinking tonight" bracelets. And then, after we had purchased our drinks and were ready to enter the last gate to the performance area, we were required to provide the torn stub of our ticket one last time. (I'm thinking that if they tried really, really hard...someone might come up with a slightly better "entrance strategy".)

We'd purchased tickets for table seating so that we could visit easier, and the tables were about the size and shape of the one you see in movies featuring King Arthur. So I plopped my royal arse in thy royal throne (plastic chair) at The Mythical Round Table surrounded by many a nobleman and lady who had acquired similar status in the kingdom.

The band that performed goes by the name of "Hairball". I thought about having the title of today's blog be the same name, but I didn't want you to start reading this with the impression I was about describe a gift that Claire, Clairee, Dangit, or Insertyourcat'snamehere might leave for you. (Cat's names listed in alphabetical order so that none of the mentioned cat's should feel slighted.)

The performance was actually very impressive and a lot of fun. The band plays all 80's music by "Hair Bands". They have two lead singers, and while one is singing the other is changing into the style of clothing that the original band's lead singer would have worn as he sang the song in the 80's.

They opened with Kiss, so the singer was dressed in black and white, with the black wig, and black and white face paint, and had the sweet axe-shaped guitar. When they performed songs by Prince, the singer was dressed in a wig and wearing the purple outfit and completely looking the part. And they did the same each time they switched to a different band!

They had pyrotechnics, confetti cannons, and dry ice for fog effects. They sent out beach balls into the dance area, as well as these massive confetti filled balloons which the singer would pop when they came back to the stage, showering the whole front area. The light show was on time with the music, and (of course) the present company was great! :)

For the encore, they ended with AC/DC. I thought it odd that they sent the large beach balls out into crowd as I don't remember colorful beach balls making a regular appearance in AC/DC videos. Then it became clear. After he finished singing the song he was on, there was a short pause... and then (in nearly perfect AC/DC imitation) there came, "my balls are always bouncing - to the left and to the right."

I found it amusing.

Then the light show dimmed and fireworks launched into the sky from right behind the stage.

And it when it was all done, our table looked like some big, strange, round chess set - with the pawns being all the plastic cups of the mixed drinks and the beer bottles being the power pieces.

But there was also a Dr. Pepper bottle. (Sir Dr. Pepper?) Anyway, it was the only bottle that still had a cap on it. I missed where it came from, but with the rest of the empty containers being kings, queens, rooks, bishops, castles, and pawns of rival kingdoms...

I thought, "That must be the messenger one hears tell of... " ;)

Nicki

I visited your Facebook wall yesterday.
I saw that some had left comments.
I did not.

Actually, I've never left a comment on your wall.
And you've never left one on mine.
No biggy. Over half of my "friends" will probably never leave a comment.
But you were a friend, nonetheless.


I thought about you as I drove home from work this morning.
Somewhere along the way I even turned the radio off.

I thought about your original house, and how amazed I was when I saw that the entry door opened directly to the steps to the upper level, and how the wall of the staircase was lined with all the ribbons you'd won at horse shows.

I thought about your original barn, and how large and sturdy it seemed, and about how it seemed like the builders had thought it out better than whoever had planned the house.

It was red, like old wood barns should be.


I remembered the horse shows, and I thought about Karen, and Sarah, and Michelle, and Sue, and Tonya, and little Barbie, and the other 4-H girls who were at the fair each year.

And of course, I thought of Val, because horses were more her thing than mine...but with a 5 minute refresher from you I bet I'd still place in an "Open Showmanship" class!

I thought about how patient you were with all of us, and how caring you were to not only us, but to all life.

I thought about all the horses that I still remember the names of.
You had the golden prize winning Palomino, Princess.
Karen had the seemingly untouchable brown and white Paint, Trinket, with the light blue eyes.
Val had fat little Cody...

And I thought about your other animals, and how it was just habit to glance into your yard on the way by to see if the pig and the goat were freely wandering about like dogs and cats do at other farm sites.

I thought of many things. Of God, and Heaven, and 44 being much too young.

I thought about the changes that I've seen over the years. How the original house was replaced by a smaller one that was set up with a pet grooming business in the basement, and how the original barn is no longer there, but the Hollyhocks come back year after year next to the new one.

I thought about our last visit, and how you seemed weakened physically but remained strong emotionally, and how we talked and laughed and made childish plans for you to stop by and see my new place when you were able to.

And then I arrived home, in the dark, with my headlights shining on the daylilies, coneflowers, and Black-Eyed Susans I'd recently planted.

I sat there in silence for a moment.

I thought "Where should I add some Hollyhocks... "

And then I went in and took a shower to remove the tear tracks.

I thought of you today.
And I will think of you again.
You will be remembered.
And missed.

Ready...ACTION!!!

Shortly after I crawled into bed last night, it occurred to me that - no matter how mundane my life might be - I'm really very capable of creating brief moments of imaginative situations to put myself in. (Like Calvin, of "Calvin and Hobbes" fame...but older.)

The scene begins.

The day had worn on with a stifling heat and was followed by the night that remains hot and humid. I lay there...in the darkness of the night...and there's a surprisingly, nearly impossibly, cool breeze blowing across my exposed flesh. The noise of the engine is drowning out all the other sounds.
Apparently I've been severely injured - but I feel no pain. I don't remember how I got here, and I find it odd that there are no voices in the darkness which engulfs me.
Why am I face down? Are the injuries so bad that my body has numbed itself, or have they shot me full of morphine?
Then the bed upon which I rest begins to shake in rhythm with the steady Thub-Thub-Thub-Thub-Thub-Thub of the whirling blades as the helicopter prepares to lift off...

No, wait.
The damn cat is scratching behind his ear again.
I hate it when he does that when I'm trying to sleep!

So, like some sick ritual that's stuck in a recorded replay ...

Again the poor, defenseless kitty-kitty is swallowed up by the looming arm of death and is swept into the maw of the beast...

And I hold Dangit in a forced cuddle until he's pissy enough to jump off the bed when I let him go. Hopefully the motor of the fan will lull me to sleep before he forgives me and jumps back up. :)


Ok. New scenario.

It's a beautiful afternoon. The parking lot is lit with an almost unnatural daylight. All of the cars are free of dirt, like they'd been parked there straight from going through the car wash.
Oh, look! An empty spot! And it's close to where I want to be!
I approach the empty spot and pull halfway in...and stop.
The all white van to my left is rusting on the bottom half. It's a cargo van with no back windows. It's parked perfectly in line between my vehicle and the building I wish to enter, and my driver's side door will be directly next to the the sliding door of the van if I park here...

F. That!

I backed out and parked my vehicle out in the empty part of the parking lot.
(I guess I have a sense of self preservation after all!)



Ok, last one. (In storyteller mode this time.)

I swapped out the Cadillac and the Lincoln at the mechanic's shop.
Whatever's wrong with the Lincoln still hasn't been fixed - but it's still drivable - and the Cadillac was in serious need of new air shocks. (I say this because there were times when I was driving down the highway where it felt like the car was going to separate from the frame and start spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl. Not good.)

Well, the Lincoln gets shit mpg. Hopefully when it's running right we do slightly better than the 8 I think it gets...but it's old and huge and heavy...so I'm not holding my breath.

Thankfully, I still have the trusty Buick. Not only does it pull out small trees by the dozens, (yes, guilty) but even with over 295,000 miles and some cosmetic damage (dent, door dings, etc.) and perhaps some structural integrity issues (area of rust), it still runs like a champ.

Apparently, when a Cadillac gets new air shocks, they need to bring it in to have the computer...well, shit. I don't know. They needed it overnight, anyway.

So after work that night I swung into the mechanics yard (with the Buick) to see if it looked like they'd begun working on it.

You almost had to see it for yourself, but I'll do my best to describe it.

It was night, so it was dark. (Besides what was lit up by my headlights.) There were 4 demolition derby cars parked back there in haphazard fashion, (the Lyon County Fair is this coming weekend and the mechanic's son is in it and the mechanic himself is one of the flag wavers) The demolition derby cars all have 5 gallon pails over the smoke stacks - which, of course, are sticking out of the engines. There were maybe 3 old vans on the lot - and a handful of other vehicles that were either still needing some repairs, or were abandoned by owners who decided the $40 headlight was more than the value of the vehicle.

I thought, "Wow. Ghetto!"

Seriously. The Buick became a gem when it left the street to enter this mix.


So after rolling up all 4 windows of the hopefully disabled vehicle in case of rain, (the keys were left in the ignition thank you very much) I glanced into the back of the car and finally found out where the battery is. (Check under the back seat if you haven't located the one in your own vehicle yet.)

So then I wandered back to the Buick and sat there for a bit.

The night seemed to hold the town hostage, tied and gagged in a blanket of blackness . There were no headlights coming down the street from either direction, and no pedestrian traffic had been spotted for hours. I turned my vehicle into the alley that brought me to a long abandoned lot and the only life I'd seen since I started out on this miserable journey.
The husks of wrecked vehicles littered the lot like the skeletons of warriors on a battlefield to some ancient conflict. Only one vehicle appeared to still have paint... or at least have the exterior panels all still painted in the same color. I wasn't surprised to see that the hood was partly up and all 4 windows were mostly down, but was nearly shocked to find the keys in the ignition and that it still had the rims and stereo intact!
The back seat was no longer attached, but it remained in the vehicle.

But that's all boring. It needs a bit more kick.

The area was not void of life unlike the the rest of the town. There was a homeless man sleeping next to the shopping cart that held all of his worldly possessions. The rats that scurried about gave this man a wide berth as if he were nobility that should be offered only the highest respect.
The skeletal husks of the abandoned vehicles appeared to twist and bend in grotesque convulsions as light flickered, died, and flickered again as flames rose above the rim of the barrel in which a fire was lit. Several people were gathered around the fire, dressed in patched street clothes and roasting my neighbor's stupid little dog...

Oops. Reality check. ;)

So anyway, a mere $675 later (new brakes also - front and rear) the car is back in my possession. (The Lincoln is not. Hope he gets that fixed soon even though it's just going back in storage.)

It's too bad everything costs so damn much. I'm tired and don't want to go to work.

Maybe if I just daydream (overnight) I can call in that helicopter...

Playing With Fire

I have neighbor problems.

It's kind of a dramatic opening sentence, no? But it's true.

It was obvious from the beginning that The Neighbor was a bit on the nosy side, for back when my house was still for sale and when I was looking at the place - he came up and asked...no, questioned... who we were and what we were doing there.

Well, I thought it was pretty self explanatory. There was a "For Sale" sign in the yard. There was a guy wearing a suit standing next to some any old Joe Pye Weed (which is actually the name of a plant, but I'm using it to refer to myself here). The car that Suit was driving had a magnetic sign on the door that said "Remax"...

Well, you get the idea.

So after I bought the place I replaced both of the old sunfaded mismatched wood entry doors and the old wood screen doors that didn't really protect them. I also replaced the old, rotted metal gutter system as well as the old, rotten wood garage door.

And I was happy! It really brightened the place up!

But The Neighbor? Well, he suggested that I paint the place. Not that the place needed paint. Oh, no! He just didn't care for the color. (Brown shingles, creamish/tan walls, white doors and trim.)

I thought to myself...
"Hmmm... You have an all white house with a black roof. You've painted the cement blocks of your basement walls...white... as well as the boards to the deck out back. Your shed is done the same way. You have your enormous white camper, your white Buick Le Sabre, your black Pontiac Bonneville, and your black Volkswagen Beetle. You are obviously The Master of picking out The Right Color. Now please wander back to your own property while I finish planting these Daylilies. They bloom in yellow, red, peach, orange, purple, pink..." :)

I told him I was thinking about painting it green. (I hope he hates green.)

When I unloaded all that mulch I brought home earlier this year, The Neighbor was all over that. He was also very curious about what was being done inside my house when Steve was bringing in the power tools to put in the shower.

ugh.

But now we fast forward to the recent past.

I've mentioned that I've been taking out a lot of the unwanted trees around my house and at the end of my little dead-end road.

Well, The Neighbor? He likes to sit next to his enormous white camper while it's parked in his driveway. His wife joins him there, and they sit and play with their stupid yippy little house-mutt and are happily retired.

But when I was on the ladder with the chainsaw blazing through the tree branch (the one that I was worried might land on the power line), The Neighbor had his chair on the street in front of his camper so he could watch the show.

Well, I'm afraid I had to disappoint him. Like I said... the hard hat worked and the branches all landed where I wanted them to. No Glowing-Chad-Sparking-On-A-Metal-Ladder to entertain him.

Well, he's not easily deterred, so the next time he talked to me he tried to persuade me to remove more trees at the end of my little dead-end road. For clarification purposes, when I say "more" I mean "ALL".

I think he was attempting to get me to think this was somehow my idea, but there's no way in Hello, there that I would ever come up with an idea that stupid on my own.

(Yes, chainsawing a branch that overhangs a power line while standing on a metal extension ladder 30 feet in the air is not an intelligent idea. Just work with me here. It's called "The Willing Suspension of Disbelief")

Again, I thought to myself...
"Hmmm. You'd like to sell your house and move out of the state. So what your saying is that you'd like me to cut down all of the fully grown Oak trees - along with all the volunteer shit - so you can have a clear view of...what? the roof of the bank? For how long? Half a year or so? Perhaps I better set down this pickax lest I get the urge to have me one of those "Fried Green Tomatoes" style barbecues..."

(Laugh here. I would never actually eat my neighbors. Meat that old is probably really tough.)

:)

OK, then. Back to the storyline...

So as I'm clearing out the trees and digging out the roots, I'm either loading the trailer with the branches or I'm burning them in one of the fire pits. (The fire pits are handy like that. They are also much easier to carry around the property than the car and trailer are. Maybe if I were to disconnect the trailer and carry them separately...but who has that kind of time?!)

I've been doing this, now-and-then/here-and-there, ever since I moved into the place 4 years ago. In fact, friends of David and Todd have stopped by and joined me in having a fire and in eating large bowls of ice cream while doing so. David and Todd weren't even home!

The only difference is right now the fire pit is where The Neighbor can see it. (Well...If he's in the camper instead of next to it.) Apparently when The Neighbor can see a fire pit, the RISING smoke drifts downhill and bothers him.

The Neighbor complained about this.

Twice.

Once on each of the last two Saturday's.

(I suspect The Neighbor may have had some ninja training. He can kind of sneak up on a guy. It's a good thing I have an underdeveloped sense of self preservation or he might startle the hell out of me. I hope he shares my notion of "Love Thy Neighbors! Well...don't eat them, anyway.")

The first time was a My Bad. A breeze picked up in the afternoon and I wasn't paying attention to the direction of the smoke path.

Different story last weekend.

When he appeared, he asked why I always had to have a fire going. (Gee, I don't know...maybe because it's Saturday and it's the only day I don't work and for some reason the damn thing doesn't burn out when I keep adding branches?)

I told him I'd just got done grilling. (This was the truth - because I'm like that.) I then apologized and asked him if the smoke was blowing toward his house. He responded (rather gruffly, I might add) that it was...and that I could obviously see that it was...and that he doesn't like wood smoke and that there's city ordinances about having a fire in town.

Odd. I kind of noticed that it was almost a perfectly calm day and what little smoke there was was dissipating about 8 feet above the fire pit. I'm also pretty sure that fire pits are acceptable in our town (if covered) and are able to be used at any time for cooking.

So then.
He doesn't like wood smoke.
That explains quite a bit.

At least I now know why The Neighbor does his camping in his driveway instead of in an actual campground!

Now then... where's that stupid little yippy mutt?
Oh, there you are!
Think you're going to run over and snarl at me, do you?
Come here, you little *insert naughty word. nope - wrong one. THE naughty word. there you go.*
I might not eat thy neighbor, but a little barbeque sauce on you might...

:)

Sticky

Another storm is moving into the area.

The rain is pelting the air conditioner and making as much noise as it does when it hits the roof of a tin shed. The lightning flashes light up the surrounding buildings and landscape in brief moments of almost daylight brightness. The radio announcer is on and saying that the severe weather has crossed into MN from SD and he's giving out all the same "take precautionary measures" advice that he's said every weekend since I took the Lincoln out of storage 4 weeks ago.

Well, hopefully the vehicle makes it through yet another storm without taking any hail damage. It's at the mechanic's so that some thingamajig that's stuck inside the doohickey can hopefully be freed without breaking the gizmo... well, it isn't running quite right.

But I wasn't planning to blog today about my car problems.
(I might do that after they get fixed...)

So let's get to the story already, shall we?

It's about Dangit. (my cat)

I'm pleased to say that I have not caught a mouse inside the house since I put out all the traps I mentioned in the last post. Dangit caught at least one on one of his nighttime prowls, and I did get a couple in one of the live traps out in the garage, but that doesn't matter here.

What matters is... and pay attention if you have a cat... do NOT forget to close the door to block the cat from entering any rooms that have a glue trap.

Yup. You guessed it. He stepped on one.

And then he freaked because it stuck to his foot and lifted off the ground when he tried to move. He immediately began to try to shake it off, which slapped the trap along the side of his leg and also caught part of his tail.

And damn! That is some tough stuff! All of his actions took place in a matter of seconds, but to try to pry him loose wasn't nearly as quick. I seriously wondered if I wasn't pulling all the hair out and leaving him with big bald spots.

So after the cat was free from the glue trap, I realized I had a problem. Namely... he had glue all over his leg and more on his tail. Well, I've never had to be the fix-it-up chappy for something like this, so even though cats are supposed to hate water I decided to stick him in the sink and see if a little soapy water would eat off the glue.

Nope.

So then, the cat and I, we took a shower. By now I have quite a lot of glue... and cat hair... stuck to me - and I'm still doing my best to clean the cat.

Well, showering with a cat actually went way better than I anticipated. I think he may have understood that I was trying to help him... or maybe I misread him and the look he was trying for was, "If I still had claws I would use them to remove your eyeballs." Either way I think we did a really good job of getting him cleaned up. He's probably high from eating glue while he cleaned himself, but at least he's clean enough to be in the house during the rain we're currently getting.

If it clears up tomorrow the trees should pull easier, and if it doesn't I still have to paint the bathroom. (and clean glue out of the sink and shower) I went with plain white for the ceiling and a green for the walls.

"Koala Bear" is what the color is called. And like I said, it's a shade of green. I always think of Koala's as being a khaki/tan color. Guess i was wrong on that!

dirty koala bears... :)

The Jungle

I had these grand plans to get up early and get a lot of yard work accomplished today. (This term being loosely applied. Although I have the smallest house and it's tucked away at the end of the dead-end street, I'm still the primary landowner for the three houses on the block. However, very little of that land would actually be considered "yard".)

I even followed through with the part where I got up early - and I even went right to the work part.

We hauled out 3 loads of branches last weekend and I'm really pleased with how things are looking. 3 or 4 dead trees that I didn't even know were in there were removed, as well as that big half-dead tree that was next to the house. (Sure am glad I found that hard hat along the road one time. It worked. But I seem to have misplaced the gloves I found like those that highwire techs use, so thankfully the branches fell where I wanted them to.) We also took out a couple of the other trees that were not looking very healthy or were growing all weird and blocking the younger, more desirable volunteer trees from growing straight...and a whole lot of the smaller not-quite-lilac-or-flowering-crab trees that were either in the way, ugly, or busted all to shit after the big trees fell on them.

But today it's just me. As of yesterday the kids are at their mom's for the second half of summer.
(She sent a text message that read, "Did you really tell David that he couldn't bring a couple extra pairs of shorts/jeans with? All I have that fit him here are some pjs." ...or something really close to that. I had several immediate responses to that. One was, "Perhaps you'd like to take some of that $5,000 or so you now owe me for past medical and go buy him some instead of supplying your unemployed douchebag with cigarettes...oh, and by the way - Todd needs braces." Another was, "David and I now wear the same size. Perhaps David and unemployed douchebag also wear the same size. Then, at least, unemployed douchebag would finally be contributing something!" And of course, there was the "Oh...phkkng-drop-ded-u-dum-btch!" So many choices. I just couldn't decide which to send back! Instead, I let him take a couple pairs of shorts that had some damage but still looked nice.)

So, it's 8:30 AM today and there's no breeze to speak of and I have to pause now and then from swinging the pickax to dig out roots so I can wipe off the sweat that's dripped onto my glasses.

Then it's 9:30 or so and I've been working on the same small section all morning and am pleased with how things are looking, but would like to speed the process up a bit. I look at the stump sticking out from between the rock crevice it's lodged in . It's sprouted a lot of new growth even though I just cut the damn thing off last weekend. I think it even shot out some new leaves while I was swinging the pickax as it braced it's roots into the rock so I couldn't get at them.

It was becoming a bit of power struggle and I wasn't winning.

So, despite that I know this is NOT something you do with your car... I hooked up the tow strap and enjoyed the instant gratification that might lead to trying it again, and again, and so on until the transmission is wrecked.

I figured I should ponder on that a while, so I did. And it wasn't getting any cooler, and there still was no breeze, and my 64oz mixture of Diet Dew and blue slushy from SA was empty, and the little red light that tells me that I haven't been paying attention to the gas gauge was lit up when I backed up to the tree... so I retrieved the mug and off to the gas station I went.

I pull up to the pump, get out, set the mug on the roof, and am about to grab the nozzle when a voice from another vehicle says, "Excuse me, sir? You're pulling a tow strap."

Oops. Better get out of the heat for a while. ;)

yellow black yellow black yellow black

Ever had one of those work days that seem to drag on a bit longer than necessary?

I'm working the PM spot this week as the PM Supe is on vacation. I really enjoy the PM crew and we get along great, so the week has flown by... but woe is me, there was an upgrade scheduled for the portable computers the drivers use - and it always takes longer than the time it says it should take and involves at least one call to the company's tech support group.

So now I'm sitting here, waiting for "the next available representative" to take my call.

It's the last step of the installation and there's only one left to complete. I've sat here for over an hour while all of the other Data Information Acquiring Devices chirped and beeped and completed the upgrade like good little troopers, but they're all the newest version of this style Hand Held Terminal - and the one that's being bucky is Version 3 (the previous version).

So as I patiently waited for all of the other HHT's to complete the upgrade, the computer screen that displays their status had them all flashing from yellow to black to yellow to black (and so on) except for the DIAD3... who just sat there mocking me while the little square representing it on the computer screen remained a solid green.

But what's a guy to do? I locked the building up for the weekend and completed everything else work related that needed to be done. I checked the other blogs and saw Connie's is the only one that's been recently updated. I inspected my $125 Nike ZoomVomero3 running shoes and am quite pleased with myself for having worn off the grips on the bottoms and blown out the sides and lacerated the breathable mesh at least 7 times - and probably still haven't ran in them for over a mile in total combined running time.

There's a stain on the toe section of the right shoe. It's been there a while. I don't even remember what it's from but suspect it's probably chainsaw oil from last summer...

Ah! What is this? The call was a success! Version 3 is chirping away in the charging rack outside the office door! Now the download begins! (yellow black yellow black...)

... where was I?

Oh yeah. Chainsaw oil on shoe. And speaking of chainsaws, I need another one. The one I have is in great shape. It starts fine and runs fine and all that... but I have trees to remove and it's nice to have the extra one available to cut out the first one when the tree makes an unexpected shift and the blade gets stuck. (If you say you've never left a chainsaw sticking sideways out of a tree trunk while retrieving the back-up, you've either never used a chainsaw for any length of time, or you're lying.)

I like trees, and it pains me to have to cut them down, but the woods are storming my castle. Not exactly the same way Shakespeare's woods did (which would be significantly cooler) but you get the idea.

I've finally cleared the vegetation behind the house enough to walk all the way around it without pushing branches to the side, but I still have a long way to go and it's overdue in getting done. A couple of years ago, a few friends came over and we took out a number of the larger trees that could've posed a threat of root damage to the foundation of the house. The trunk of one of them was loaded with carpenter ants, and recently I've had some carpenter ants show up inside the house, so I suspect there's a nest...or swarm...or hive...or colony...or an Ant's Anonymous meeting ...taking place in the half-dead tree on the side of my garage. (Of course, the power line to the house also had to be right there.)

And there's other wildlife that's been trying to enjoy the comfort of being indoors.

(My blog. I can start a sentence with "and" if I want to. So there.)

Back when I put up the new gutters, a squirrel sat in the back gutter and burrowed his way through the facia board and into the garage. Thankfully there were no further unauthorized entry attempts made by this squirrel after I patched the hole - with tin - as I'm not sure how to operate the live trap a guy at work gave me. (For the squirrel's sake, that is. My next attempt would have been to put a piece of metal on either side of the hole that the squirrel would have had to squeeze between. I would've then hooked up the cables, turned the knob to "jump start", and fried the little rat-bastard the next time it came in.)

I recently arranged the garage again. (Bought Todd a new bike. Between the bikes and yard equipment it was getting hard to navigate the maze.) Plus, the next day a friend and I would be ripping out my shower, walls, and floor because the people that installed it wanted to save the extra $20 it would cost to use the right sheetrock under the tile. I was also arranging the garage for tool-usage space in case in case of rain.

As I was finishing up for the night, a mouse ran along the concrete ledge below the garage window. It stopped when it was even with me and looked me over. Well, I'm not one for having mice in the house - but it wasn't in the house - so I did the same in return.

I suppose we hung out there for about 15 minutes. It's little ears would perk up when I talked to it. It waited patiently while I dug out my phone and figured out how to zoom in. It wasn't at all bothered when I decided I didn't like the way the picture turned out and took the next picture with the camera held about 6 inches from it. Nope, it even waited for me to walk outside the garage door and bring in the cat. It calmly sat there with it's ears perking up as I talked to the cat, like so... "It's right phucking there! What the hell are you looking at?!" ...and then it started to feel sorry for me and my futile attempts to get the cat to understand that there was a motionless mouse right in front of where it was being held, so it helped me out by moving to get the cat's attention. (Down into the cinder blocks.)

Yup. Cute little thing. I don't know why people are so scared of them.

But like I said, I don't want 'em in the house... so I set 8 glue traps, 3 live traps, and 5 "snap" traps. Blech. There's NEVER just one mouse so I've had some luck...if you'd call it that. (No poison. Don't want dead mice stinking to high hell in the humid heat somewhere in a wall.)

Besides the whole new shower set-up and getting the garage in order, I've been busy outside as well. My spare firepit is about to become my primary firepit. My old one saw a lot of use while I knocked back the shrubbery (Monte Python would be proud) with the old hand scythe like some Crocodile Dundee bushman, or Chainsaw Massacred my way through the Living Dead trees. The last time I emptied the ashes there was daylight showing through a few spots.

I had my first visit from a vandal since moving here. This person broke solar lighting on both sides of the path and smashed the glass to a seperate solar light closer to the patio. They also, um...moved?...the marble gazing ball I had in the back part of the property. (Not sure if it got stolen or rolled down the hill somewhere.)

I'll admit that I find this a bit annoying. I can more-or-less fix the path lights and have 5 more of the solar lights like the one that got smashed that have never been put in the ground. I even have a spare marble gazing ball that's never been taken out of the box. But I shouldn't have to replace this stuff.

If it happens again I might have to Gladiator/300 someone with my Garden Claw Red. ;)

Oh, and I picked up one of those Mantis garden tillers like you see on TV. 4-cycle Honda engine, lightweight, and handy as can be for areas you can't get at with a rear-tine tiller. It's the more expensive version, but if you've thought about getting one I'd say you wouldn't have buyers remorse after doing so! (This promotional statement not authorized or paid for by any political candidate or the makers of motorized yard equipment, or their affiliates. Cheap bastards.) :)

Y.M.E. (Part 2)

It's weird how you can remember so many things from your childhood but can't remember where you set your wallet 15 minutes ago. (Not that I'm currently missing my wallet...or checkbook...or phone...)

So, as I was saying, back when I was still a wee young lad and attending grade school at East Side Elementary, I always enjoyed "story time". It was usually right after lunch (which I also enjoyed) and recess.

I remember several of the stories that were read to us. Most notably was probably, "Where the Red Fern Grows"... and that being most noteworthy as I'm sure Val and quite a few of our classmates remember it as well. (5th grade. Mr. Schwanabeck and Mr. Moon.)

But there was another story from (if I'm remembering right) Mrs. Schultz's 3rd grade class that I've long wondered if anyone else remembers. It was one of those stories that came with a record - which was a bonus because there'd be music and singing included with the narration.

The catch to this is, as was stated in the story, only one person at a time knows the song.

Ever.

If that person should teach someone else the song, then they immediately forget it.

So I took it upon myself to Google and YouTube the lyrics...and found none.



And I know I might be a little strange in what I choose to remember (like how I memorized Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" in Bjornebo's Junior High English class) but the song and the story went like this...

"In a whole doughnut
there's a nice whole hole.
When you take a big bite
hold the whole hole tight!
If a little bit bitten
or a great bit bitten...
there are no nuts
in a you-know-whaaaaaaaaaat?
...in a doughnut."

And I could totally sing that right now without the record to follow along with.
So of course I've asked myself, "Is this like one of those Highlander deals, where there can be only one? Am I then, that one? Is there always one? Am I now immortal unless I go senile and unintentionally teach it to my caregiver?" (Remember...only one person at a time. No master/apprentice duo thing like the Star Wars Sith Lords do.)

"I am Chad Nowacki of the clan Nowacki, and I cannot die - for I know the doughnut song."
(Nope. Sounds way cooler when the McClouds say that using their own last name. Guess I'll need to come up with my own immortality catch phrase.)


Well, East Side Elementary is no longer. The building is still there but it's not a public school anymore. The same can't be said for the Junior High as it was demolished last year and is now just a big, empty grass lot. The High School I went to is now serving the city as the Junior High and a new H.S. was built several years ago.

But even though the buildings may have gone da-way-of-da-dodo and locker #490 no longer has combination lock code 27-9-41, I still have memories from each school.

For example, Mr. Doyle (Junior High) was the first person I ever heard use the expression, "The carpet matches the drapes." when referring to a red haired individual. He also taught us that, if we were to ever find ourselves in a situation where we are alone and injured from an open wound and in need of medical attention that's not nearby...say, like in a desert or something...that our first morning urine is good for preventing/treating infection.

Well! Isn't that just good to know?



So now my kids are in J.H. and H.S., but in a different town. They're learning a lot of the same things I learned as I learned a lot of the same things my parents were taught.

I told them to ask the teacher at Thanksgiving time, "If the Indians taught the Pilgrims how to hunt and farm and fish, what did the Pilgrims eat before they got on the Mayflower?"
(They didn't ask.)

The school my kids attend is called Yellow Medicine East. It's often shortened up to Y.M.E. which in turn is shortened by pronouncing the abbreviation as "Why-Me".

The town itself, I believe, rests partly in Yellow Medicine County and partly in Chippewa County. And I'm not entirely caught up on my Native American cultures, but I believe the Upper Sioux Reservation rests in Chippewa County... and unless the Chippewa were a branch of the Sioux (compare here the Lutheran faith with umpteen variations all under the same name) I find it a little odd that it's not called Sioux County.

There's a river somewhere along the 30 mile stretch between my jobs called the "Yellow Medicine River". I don't know if the river was named first or if the county was, or if either had anything to do with the naming of the other - and I haven't researched the topic at all, but I'd guess that "Yellow Medicine" was somehow named in a round-about way by the natives.

I just really hope that it wasn't by a young brave who came up on some pale-face who was taking a first-morning-piss on one of his cuts...



"...and his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming and the lamplight o'er him streaming casts his shadow on the floor, and my soul from out that shadow shall be lifted nevermore!" (Sorry. Still really like that poem.) :)

Plant Shock

If you are bored reading about plants, please note that Sheila has finally updated her blog.
It's only been... What? Two-and-a-third months?!

I think I might finally be just about over the Bronchitis. I probably had it for a good 3 weeks before I went in, but when my breathing took on the sound that an old fan makes when it's shut off - I figured it was about that time...but first I went to the Chinese buffet and had seafood. No allergic reaction to accompany the breathing difficulty already brought on by the Bronchitis, so apparently God still has some plan for me. I'm still lost as to what this plan might be, so instead I played in the garden.

So... as I work on my Outdoor Living Area (as my old crew from UPS calls it) I'm doing a lot of learning on the fly. I've found that it's not a good idea buy a bunch of plants before you have a spot prepared to plant them, and I've also found that when having a patio and gardens and a few hundred feet of looping paths, it's a good idea to finish a section rather than jump around to whatever area amuses me at the moment.

Yesterday was hot. While I was feeding the mosquitoes they couldn't help but sweat on me.

So I got to thinking that maybe I should try for a tan this year. Like, normal people tan - not just the tan head, neck, arms, and legs with Pasty White Boy feet and torso.

So I took off the hat and shirt and put on David's old flip-flops (bought him a new pair for the D.C. trip) before I watered the plants. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but apparently it was a little too much for a couple of the newer, less established plants to take in - for when I turned around, some of them were looking all flat and lifeless.

I think I heard them scream in horror a little bit.

But as I said, it was a really hot day... so I figured there was a chance they maybe suffered a mild case of sun-stroke, or perhaps were just teasing me about my Edward-the-vampire-glowing-by-daylight whiteness.

Either way, I figured the best thing to do was dump a little cold water on them. And so I did... and thankfully all but one or two came out of it.


I made a trip up to Willmar to get some more hoses and connectors but came back with those - plus another Bleeding Heart, 2 more Speedwell, 3 Salvia, and 6 more Asiatic (or maybe Oriental. I confuse the two.) Lilies. (All but the Salvia are planted.)

When I got back from Willmar, I hooked up the trailer (new tire and lighting wiring installed last Thurs) and made a trip up to the compost pile for some grass clippings to use as mulch. I'd use my own grass clippings, but the mowable part of my yard is too small...and I had a bit of a dandelion issue this year.

When I reached the compost pile, I found that some nice person had dug up a whole lot of their Iris plants and disposed of them for me to bring home.

So i did.

But there are a lot, so I gave a box full to one of the guys from work and tried to pass off more to mom and dad. (No luck there.)



I'm trying to be careful to not wreck the natural beauty of my property with all the plants I'm putting in, but I can't help but wonder if the plants I buy are considered a weed in some other chunk of the world. That being said, if anybody who reads this would like some Solomon's Seal, Lily-Of-The-Valley, or Engelman Ivy - I have an abundance of it. In fact, going by the prices they ask at the nurseries, I'd guess I've probably "weeded" out over $1,ooo worth just this year!

Oh yeah. Got some Purple Iris for you, too. And there's a grass that I bought that I could give you. I recently looked at the label of one in a nursery, and in the spot where it has "spread" it said "indefinite" - which is a nice way of saying, "This shit is a weed as far as you're concerned. You can't honestly be considering buying this to put in your garden. Why would you put grass IN your garden? You should be taking grass OUT of your garden!!!"

At any rate, I now have transplanted this grass to several other locations and still have the original plant in the original spot. I give credit to the guy who came up with the notion of potting up "Native Grass" (weeds) and marketing it as "Naturalizing". They saved themselves the hassle of actually having to learn anything about flowers and still cashed in on the deal. However, if I wanted the Naturalized look, I wouldn't be spreading Weed-N-Feed across the dandelion patch!



Aside from the grass-weed, I moved several of those clumps of Sedum from where they'd been growing wild since before I bought the place. At least, it sure looks and feels like Sedum. I'm going to feel really stupid if it's not.

One of my neighbors has Giant Poppies in his gardens. He has given me permission to stop by and get the seed pods when the plants are done flowering for the year. I sure hope the opium farming doesn't interfere with my meth lab and chop shop businesses. :)

(Shhh. Maybe the police will stop by and tear my house up. Yay! New carpet!!!)


Getting late. Got another day of donating blood ahead of me so I better get some shuteye.

;) <- (not sure if that's shuteye or if I just have long, beautiful lashes.)

Later!

Y.M.E. (Part One)

When I read a book (if possible) I like to read the whole thing straight through. I didn't read the Harry Potter series until after the last book came out because that would require waiting to get to the end. (Not that I ever jump to the end to make sure the book has a happy ending... I just like to read the whole thing from start to finish.)

I guess my blog posts work the same way. I have 3 unfinished posts between this one and the last published one, so apparently if I don't finish them in one attempt I won't finish them at all!

So anyway... Here's a quick review of the nearly completed school year. I don't have a whole lot to put on here about Todd, except that he's shown some interest in joining archery and tennis next year....and maybe bowling as well...which is great news as I've really been struggling to get him involved with the athletics part of school.

The bad thing is, he's really good at sports and gets an "A" every quarter in gym (I only remember getting A's for archery and swimming) - but for some reason that I've yet to discover, he's reluctant to join.

Not that he could join anyway, as he brings home the attention grabbing upper-case "F" every quarter for band, but at least he's showing an interest. (He never turns in his practice time and occasionally skips his lessons.)

I'm really hoping that David also joins archery and bowling. The bowling part because he recently outscored one of his friends who's won trophies and been bowling for years - and the archery part because I honestly think that Todd would kick his ass... and David could really use a lesson in humility all served up nice and tidy by his younger brother. :)

Alllllllrighty, then. About David...

This year, as I think I may have mentioned in an earlier post, David dropped out of basketball to be on the Math Team and be in the Knowledge Bowl. He was oddly reluctant to ask permission to do so, but was given an enthusiastic "Hell yeah!!!".

I can't tell you right off hand how they did... and he's currently in Washington D.C. with the Regiment 212 Marching Band (the combined marching bands from Yellow Medicine East of Granite Falls and the Montevideo High School - which are both towns on Highway 212) ...and it's now midnight:35ish where he's at and probably not the best time to call him.

He was also in tennis again this year. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with the combination of his mom having played racquetball and me growing up with a ping-pong table in the basement, or if if the credit should go to the Wii game system, but the boy really seems to have a knack for the game. In fact, (I say this proudly as I just plain straight-up suck at most sports involving a ball - thus, no A's except for archery and swimming) he's Second Singles... which means he's the second best player on the team, and it's only his second year.

Of course, the down side to this is that he plays the second best player on whatever team they compete against - which often means he's paired with some really strong players. And even though he was handed more losses than wins this year, he made the other guy work for it.
(I was only able to make it to one game this year as they were mostly out of town, but at that game the back-and-forth hitting during one of their volleys...or whatever the tennis term is...went on for so long that the matches on both sides of theirs stopped to watch, and the spectators for both the visiting and home teams broke into applause when the volley...thing... ended!


OK. Gotta think now...

Oh yeah. David was also on the Honor Roll every quarter this year. (Todd? Ummm... No.)

Aside from Marching Band which I'd mentioned earlier, David also played in the Pep Band, and there's probably something else band related that I'm forgetting.

Unfortunately, the school (again - Y.M.E.) is set up with fewer time slots available for classes than we had where I went to high school, and David had to drop out of choir in order to take Spanish. (I liked choir.)


Without taking the effort to go through any of the earlier posts to see if I'm repeating myself, I'll take the chance of saying that David and Todd are often in the once-a-week, small town local newspaper. In the past, Todd is usually standing where he's mostly blocked by someone or he's just outside the frame of the picture - but this year he had some really nice close-ups of him. (One for helping with the Christmas Cookie Music Dept. Fundraiser, and the other for a Science/Invention Show.)

And back to Todd...

The kid has an incredible talent for stretching out his homework in order to get out of housework.

His class had to read "The Giver" and do a book report on it. It took him so long that I finally said, "Todd, I could have read the whole book AND done the report by now!!! Quit screwing around! I wanted to go fishing sometime this weekend!"

He said, "Fishing?"

Done. 15 minutes.


So once again I am without kids - with David being in D.C. and Todd at his mom's.
Time for laundry and for some male bonding with Dangit. (the cat)

And as I spellcheck this, I see the only part of "midnight:35ish" that's wrong is the "ish".
Guess that should have been "midnight:35 or so". My bad. :)

Peaceful

I had a decent day today. The house and the cat received just about zero attention - but even so I still got a lot done. The kids are at their mom's so there was no stream of friends wandering up, and no refereeing needed to be done.

Just me, all by myself, doing whatever I felt like doing.

I started the day by hitting some of the garage sales. I used to hit them all the time when the kids were small and I was broke.

However, David is now wearing the same size clothes I am... and Todd still has all of David's stuff... and we really don't actually need anything in particular - but I figured I'd give it a shot.

So, I picked up two sleeping bags (free) and 3 CDs ($.50 each).

Then I decided I should do something I've never done, but tomorrow I plan to pick up a shotgun for Todd and possible a computer for me, so I decided this would need to be something relatively inexpensive.

Say, like, $10 or less.

So I asked myself, "What can I do that I haven't done before for less than $10?"
Naturally, it came to me that I could lay siege to the neighbor's enormous NEW camper/with accompanying NEW Volkswagen Beetle in tow by lobbing flaming arrows into the ground near the door.

But I don't have a bow... or a set of arrows... and it sounded like a waste of alcohol.

So I ate breakfast at Subway.

Then I wandered up to the library to put in some Facebook time. A friend that moved back in junior high had sent me a message asking about some of the other people in the class. I always enjoy hearing from this particular friend as he talks to me like we're still just kids having fun on the snow hill (if we remembered our snow pants, as he would point out) but on his "wall" he talks like the hard luck, drop-out, tattoo artist that he became.

Woe is me. The computers at the local library are older and can't handle some of the friend's profile pages without locking up. (Moriah - This is why I never comment on your status updates anymore.)

After having locked up the computer... again ... I decided that the weather really was planning to stay cold and windy. Since there was no longer any use in waiting it out, I decided to do some weeding and plant some of the flowers I have laying around.

Even though the temp was lower than optimal, the scenery is just beautiful. The flowering crab, apple trees, lilacs, and many more of the spring flowering trees are in full bloom here. I don't have any of these on my own property - yet...except for 1 tiny lilac that I just stuck in last summer - but I do have many lilac type trees that will pop into full bloom sometime this week, and my property will be covered in white, pink, and red flowers. Nice! (Yes. I know...pictures.)

It came to my attention that some of the perennials sure do take their sweet @$$ time about showing any indication that they made it through the winter. However, Obedient Plant is not one of these.

In fact, I think they should call it Disobedient Plant. Or maybe even Downright Unruly Plant. I can't believe how much it spreads in just one year!!!

But there were other less aggressive plants that still haven't shown signs of life. I removed one of these thinking it was dead, only to find that I'd done so in error. I suspect that a couple of the others also would have come around if they'd been left alone, but I wasn't really in the mood to spend a bunch of time weeding AROUND something that might be dead.

I do a lot of thinking while I'm weeding, and I compared myself to the plants. Am I like that plant that's just kind of there but in no hurry to grow? Or am I one that's already up and already blossoming? Or is my moment of glory still a short stretch down the road?

I read a saying once that went something like..."To have a garden is to be close to God."

For me, it's more like..."To have a garden is to play at being a god." This, of course, because I get to pick and choose which plants live and which plants die. And since this was the first weeding of the year, my maniacal laughter could have been heard echoing off the canyon walls as I gleefully screamed, "Die, damn you! Die! Die Die!" as I removed the dandelions from my project.

At least it could have if there were canyon walls here. Or if I really was THAT excited about pulling weeds.

In all actuality, it really was a calm day. I even passed on dragging out the Boom Box (yes, I still have the one I bought back in 1989ish) so as to enjoy listening to the critters - the blue jays, robins, cardinals, some black birds, and some I haven't identified. I paused in my work to listen to a mourning dove - partly because I grew up in an area where there were so many of them to listen to and partly because I wanted to pause in my work.

In fact, the only interruption in my peaceful day was when I heard someone talking to someone else out on the road.

I heard them say "Push. Push! PUSH ALREADY!"

I've never actually delivered a baby, so I just minded my own business.

And then I heard the engine crank over, and realized someones vehicle must have quit.

But then I heard the man say something about "...pull up your panties..." followed by what sounded like a black woman sounding off right back at him. And since I only know one black female in town, and she's a friend, and she just happens to live the direction the commotion was coming from, I decided to investigate.

So I meandered down the path from where I was working out to the road. While I was doing this, I questioned why it was that the female was the one pushing the stalled vehicle.

As I got out to the road, I glanced toward a van at the same time someone started it. I could still hear the male voice, so I walked out a bit more to see if there was another vehicle.

Nope. Just the guy walking toward the van.

So I turned and walked back up the path.

And just as I walked out of his sight I heard him say, "That's right. Go back in the woods."

Which stopped me cold.

And when he next glanced up the street toward where I HAD been, he found that I was once again there.

And I was a bit pissy. And while I've never been in a fight, I knew that he only had his can of beer, while I had an entire arsenal of weaponry that he couldn't even see. (At this point in the story I would like to mention that I've never actually used a Garden Weasel but suspect that it's probably worthless. On the other hand, The Garden Claw Red...a registered trademark of The Garden Weasel... is not only fantastic for weeding without bending - it's also perfectly balanced like it was designed for guys who plant flowers and have fairy statues to throw at drunk guys who are verbally and emotionally abusive to females.)

Plus, I had to defend the reputation of the loner guys one might find in the woods.
I mean, really! Has this guy never seen the movie "Deliverance"?
* cue here the hillbilly banjo boy... :)

Apparently it shows when I'm pissed. I heard him say "Go." to whoever was in the van.

I thought, "That's right. Be afraid! Run from my flower power. Bitch." :)

So then everything went back to quiet and peaceful. I planted some English Ivy, some Hosta, some Columbine, four of something I can't think of the name of right off hand, and so on.

Then I went back to Subway for supper so that the day would be well rounded, and enjoyed my sub and some clam chowder and a beer of my own while sitting on my swingy thingy and watching the birds and listening to the wind chimes.

Oh, and I forgot to mention I dug up an old marble and a pair of glasses that looked a lot like the ones Sheila was wearing in her graduation pictures.

Oooooh yeah. Next time I stare someone down I'm going to be wearing those! :)

Well. It's getting late. I should get to sleep. Outside. In my free sleeping bags...

Busted!

Hi, Erin! I've been hoping you'd leave a comment! And now that you have...

To all of my devoted followers -
The family, the friends, the friends of family, the family of family, the non-commenting followers,
and that creepy, sinister looking chap that's lurking over there in the shadows...

(Notice how this completely inflates my readership. But really, I do appreciate all 5 of you.)

Please take the time to go to the comments section of my last entry and click on Erin's name and find your way to her blog. It's worth reading. :)

And yes, I have been absent for a while. I know this. I hit a funk and got lost there for a bit.
I don't think I was alone in the funk, but it was a thick funk so I couldn't find my way out.
I heard laughter... (from the creepy, sinister looking chap - I'd guess...)

:)

So what have I been up to?

Well...
I bought a new phone. This one can take pictures. I now consider myself technologically savvy even if I haven't learned how to retrieve the messages yet.

I haven't made any major home improvements, although I did replace the trampoline...again.

I hit a couple garage sales and now have about 60 more movies to watch.

I bought some plants from Menard's. I dug up a bunch of plants from Duke's (college buddy) that he wanted removed, and a friend from town dropped off 3 five-gallon pails of plants and said there's more available when I'm ready for them.

Plus, there's some glossy leaved shade plants near work that I've been eyeing since last year. It turns out that they have large purple blossoms at this time of the year- so I'll be wanting to transplant some of that...and I also found several large clumps of Sedum growing on my own property that will need a more suitable location.

I have 85 bags of mulch and a lot of landscaping to do.

I figure I should have most of this done about this time next year. Sure wish I'd've scheduled my vacations sometime before July!

And yes... as Doodles pointed out in the comment section of the last blog entry... I have given most of my non-work computer time to Facebook. So I'm busted on that...as well as for my own lack of blogging.

Val - Still waiting for your blog to materialize as Sheila is still in the funk.

Erin - The "Christine" I referred to is a car from Stephen King's book by that title. The car had the ability to fix itself, was selfish, and had a bad temper. (It tended to kill people in car wrecks and then fix itself.)

But you're right. And I wasn't sure on the spelling... so I Google searched it and it's spelled "hypocrite". :) Glad you're back on!

As I understand...

... in the "Balloon Boy" hoax, the parents pretended their son had accidentally lifted off from the Earth in an experimental weather balloon.

Of course, there was much publicity over this event and public concern for the missing child.

But when they played the recording over the radio of the neighbor being interviewed, he said something along the line of being drawn to the commotion by one of the parents running around the outside of the residence calling the name of the missing son, and that two of the other children were on the roof (with a camera) and one of them said their brother was in the balloon.

And I thought to myself...
"Are you serious? BOTH parents are home and neither of them know that one of their children has possibly taken up flight, while two more are on the roof?! I'm thinking 'Protective Services' might be in order here."

And then I thought...

"Why'd they have the camera? And why were they on the roof in the first place? I thought this was supposed to be an accidental launch."



And then there's the Haiti hurricane situation. I told my coworkers that very night that it would be a perfect scenario for child trafficking. Then some SAVE THE WORLD!!! activist said that it was the responsibility of the U.S. to bring the orphans here.

Me thinks to myself..."Ouch. Bad idea there, Pandora!"

And sure enough, the radio tells me that 20 American missionaries were being held for trafficking children.

My thought?

"20 Americans? TWENTY? at the same time? organized that quickly for the purpose of smuggling orphans?

Bullshit.

Your country is going through a terrible tragedy, your people are suffering, and the first thing you do is target the country that's in the best position to assist?!!! What exactly is being done there that's so incredibly wrong that you would create this fiasco to divert the media's attention?!"

And this morning the radio told me only one of the detained Americans still remains in custody. If that person is allowed to go, will the media find evidence of what was really going on? Why haven't they already?



And maybe it's that I just don't have a lot of faith in people in general, but there's ALWAYS someone out there just waiting to jump on some Get Rich Quick plan.

So last night that radio tells me of this scenario...

The owner of a Toyota Prius has the accelerator problem that's been so widely covered as of late.
Two different news people report that the driver of the vehicle stated that he tried everything to get the vehicle to slow down - all the way to the point of reaching down and manually pulling up on the accelerator with his hand - before calling 911 and having the local police walk him through how to stop the vehicle using his E-brake. (He is reported to have reached a speed over 90mph.)

First - If he's old enough to where he's actually willing to drive a Prius - let alone afford it - he should have had a driver's training class that covered how to stop the vehicle if the brakes were to fail.

Second - He tried everything? It occurred to him to call 911 on his cell phone - at 90mph...but it didn't occur to him to...um...turn the key to the 'Off' position?

Cuz' I've had two cars (see * for more info) accelerate on me and turning the thing off was the first thing I thought both times. Well, maybe the 2nd thing. The first was probably, "Shit. My car is speeding up by itself. Hope this doesn't cost much to fix."

And really, with as much unwanted publicity that Toyota has taken over this, I'd think that by now you'd have wondered how you'd go about stopping your Toyota if it went all Herbie or Christine or Bumblebee on you.

Of course, unless you're still driving a car that doesn't have power steering, you need to put the car in neutral and restart it right away. Especially so if there's need for urgent use of the power brakes or if you are on a curve.


I'm glad I buy used cars. I'd sure hate to buy one new, have it recalled, and then have it seem that all the stupid people in the world were driving the same kind of car I chose. (Although I kind of wish I had a Toyota now so I could haul ass down the road. I'd put a sign in the back window saying..."Sorry Officer. Can't stop. Accelerator sticking.")

I wonder if Toyota vehicles will top the "Most Stolen" lists again THIS year.


And there's today's ramblings.

I'm ending this post much the same as the last one, but with an apology included.
I'd missed that another one of my high school friends had found this and therefore didn't throw a shout-out in her direction. So... Hi, Judy! Sorry I missed you last time! :)


*(1) - 1987 Chevy Celebrity Eurosport (Satan's college car) - I hit a monster snowdrift at a good clip. The engine was so full of snow that it knocked the belt off. Once the belt was back on it ran again...but was as anxious to get to a heated garage as a horse is to get home after a long ride.

*(2) - 1997 Buick LeSabre (Yup. The one I still have) - Sped up by itself just one time. The cruise control has worked sporadically since then. Hmmm...CC, Toyota?