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Yesteryear

Saturday, January 7, 2017

January 7, 2017

Yesteryear
One year ago today: January 7, 2016, a word on affluenza.
Five years ago today: January 7, 2012, $96k is “not near enough”.
Nine years ago today: January 7, 2008, it wasn’t $200,000 after all.
Random years ago today: January 7, 2009, merely a “denied fact”.

MORNING
           That is a storm, since around midnight. One of the Carolinas has declared the state in an emergency. Seems 250 car wrecks is enough to panic their way of life. It catches my attention to see how simple and predictable winter storms can spook the herd. That peeps, is a mere portent of what will happen if there is ever a real catastrophe. Last autumn in Miami there wasn’t even a storm and the grocery shelves were empty in a day.
           Myself, don’t strain a bit. Here’s breakfast this morning. Gravy and rollups. The dough is store-bought, you know, the brand that to open it, you have to destroy the baking instructions. That’s ordinary gravy with a hint of horseradish, as the rollups are pork sausage bits. The teapot is on, help yourself.

           Yep, that’s cherry pie in there. It’s been in the fridge and is just resting there over the oven compartment to warm a little. We’re fine here, no rage and ruin, but that storm really rattled the rafters overnight. There was a little rain, but so little I didn’t bother to go throw a tarp over the Rebel. It still means indoor work today, so maybe I’ll run electric into the shed being repaired. Lights and fans, type of thing. There’s a convenient tree stump at the right spot.
           How about this hoop-la over Russian interference on the election. “Masterminded” by that world renowned computer whiz, V. Putin, inventor of the real supermarket lineup. And what do the libtards mean by “interference” anyway. Did the Ruskies say they hoped Trump won? Does the word mean that Hillary didn’t. I kind of like the way these libtards are exposing themselves to be such fools.
           Last item this morning is the bottle jack. I still don’t have it. Maybe I was never meant to own a 30-Ton hydraulic jack, d’y’think? And somebody go shoot the next bastard that says just go pick one up at Grainger. They want $861 for the same jack, a measurable ratio of what I paid for the entire house. Read my lips, my budget for the jack is $100. It looks a little soggy out there (it’s now 9:50AM). I’ve scootered through worse. Maybe I’ll pick up some flower seeds, the kind that need starting. Unless you got a better plan.

Picture of the day.
Quilotoa Lake.
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NOON
           Forget the previous cold spell, this was the real thing. I scored major brownie points as mine was the only hot tea made with real lemon (proof shown nearby). You can see the bag of lemons, the fact is, they were out of limes. What really sealed the deal was that lime squisher thing I bought back in Miami. Few people had seen the metal (non-plastic) version, so I was the hero just on that count.
Everything practical froze to nearly a standstill, woe to those not ready for it. The breeze off the Gulf is usually enough to keep the area Mediterranean. Not when this happens, that is, when you get both cold and wind. Like Seattle, it is a coastal cold, as opposed to a dry continental cold. The (relatively) moist wind slices clean through your wise idea of a parka. I spent twenty some years out on the prairies, so unless you’ve been to Vostok, spare me any macho “you-call-this-cold” comments.

           I’m still roughing it. I have no heater, no furnace, and the majority of my rooms are not yet insulated. I can’t find the controller to my favorite electric blanket and I’m down to my last propane bottle. My plan is to stay put indoors until this spell is gone, they say Monday or Tuesday. That’s nothing for an old farm boy used to being bottled up in a shack for a month or two at a time with the bohunks It was warm enough by noon for me to dash over to Harbor Freight for the equipment to electrify both sheds. As planned, except I’m going to run the extension cord overhead. Seems that big tree stump comes in handy after all. I cut and drill my own electric insulators from old spruce 2”x4” ends. Maybe I’ll varnish them.

Country Song Lyric of the Day:
“You Stuck My Heart In a Old Tin Can and Shot It Off a Log.”

NIGHT
           I always wanted to say “as the mercury drops” and it has. I braved a scooter ride for some cold weather food supplies. The sad news is there are not decent magazine stands or book stores in this area so I bought a National Geographic, with its watery articles. That’s it. If you want excitement, try Disneyworld. I stopped for a cool brew because the club is heated, and ran across a lady who may know the origin of the knuckle song, the one I’ve been looking into for years. She’s Czechoslovakian and says she knows the name of the composer. She learned the piece as a child, but is unsure of the English spelling. That’s still further than I got with my investigation and it’s been like twenty years.
           Agt. R reports the proper local planting time is March, not February. Start the plants now, he says the survival rate is higher if you leave them potted a couple weeks longer than indicated on the label. See, all kinds of adventure in these small cities. Remember how I insulated the floor in the bedroom? I have some books and magazines back there, so I walked over it in my stocking feet. Wow, what a difference. From ice cold in the rest of the house to amazingly warm by comparison. That was worth the $80 cost right there.
           An insulated floor in Florida. Who’da thunk it?


Last Laugh
(Yes, it's a Mercedez.)

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