The Elephant's Child

Twats.

These things, these testicular accessories for pick-up trucks, abound in my neck of the woods.  They're everywhere.  They're not funny the first time you see one and they're not funny the 200th time you see one. 

The other day I saw chrome ones. I had two reactions: first, wonderment at how much that much chrome must have cost the moron driving the truck, and secondly, a quick calculation of much money I could sue for if the thing, which must have weighed around five pounds, broke loose and came through my windshield. 

It also occured to me that the guys driving these be-balled trucks must not know much about how trucks work.

Because, you see, trucks already come with a massive, sturdy, manly "package".  Big, round, steel, and, if we want to stretch the analogy, filled with oil.  A big, tough truck doesn't need little swinging molded rubber or chrome accoutrements.  It's already got a bigger one than you, Mr. Pickup Truck Driver.

Sigh.

Yes, it's winter.  And that means that I, a responsible citizen of the Midwest, where it does snow periodically, will soon have to put up with stuff like this:

Thankfully I have yet to see this exact behavior in person, but I wouldn't be all that surprised if I did see it.

It would take the gentleman approximately half the time if he used a snow brush. Or his arm.  

 

Top Tip: Walnuts.

While it keeps your child busy on a beautiful November afternoon to fill up an entire plastic underbed storage bin with walnuts from the neighbor's yard, said walnuts will be raided by Arboreal Rodents (sometimes known by the euphemism squirrels) who will spread the walnuts and their outer husks all over your front porch. 

It will rain. Then it will snow. Heavily. Several times.

Then it will be Christmas.

By the time life returns to "normal" and you bother to look objectively at your front porch, the walnuts will have stained everything black, and you will need to clean up the mess on the first day in January that has a high for the day above the freezing point of water.  Even then, you'll have to chip walnut husks off your porch floor. 

I hate squirrels.

Labor Day Weekend.

Possible projects, in no particular order: Prime the motel chairs with rust-converting primer.  Paint them with a dark blue-violet paint, if the can that Mad Musician is bringing home is the right color.  Tape and mud two small pieces of drywall.  Wash a few windows.  Hose off the front porch and scrub the front porch floor.  Weed the rest of the long border.  Touch up the weeding in the Chemnitz Patch.  Buy as much more mulch as I can with the cash I have set aside for it.  Sprinkle Preen* around the rosebushes.  Lay down mulch. Wash and wax the Saab.  Plant out the chrysanthemums. Listen to a NASCAR race. Hope Jeffie finally wins one (although I don't think he will.)  Experiment with painting some primer on the mess that is my kitchen ceiling.

Mad Musician's going to put new wheel bearings on the back of the Saab and replace the rear brakes: new rotors, new calipers, new pads. Mad Musician is also going to work on planning the choir season.  And, he will put to use the new-to-us classic Weber grill that he brought home last night. (And I will try to talk him into letting me paint it red! Or lime green! Or orange!)

We were going to jack up the corner of our front porch (again) and pile block under the post (again) this weekend, just like we did last Labor Day Weekend (sigh), but it's a job that requires having everything on hand and ready to go before you start, and sadly, the week got away from us before we game-planned our attack on the settling that's going on at that corner.  Truly, though, the work on the Saab is probably more critical; that wheel bearing is getting very shaky and is starting to howl.  

I'm genetically programmed to Get Things Done on big holiday weekends. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) Trick is to remember to enjoy the ride and not get so tied up in Completing Work that I make myself and my family miserable.  Since the weather's cool, I imagine that we'll also take Pearl out a few times. (Car notes and pictures have been moved to a new blog for the moment.)

What are your plans for the big end of summer weekend?



*If you're going to get your undies in a bundle over my use of evil chemicals, you may come and pull the bindweed and thistles out of my five-food diameter climbing rose brambles any time you'd like.

Kitty Update.

Landlord notified previous tenants, who came, caught and took the kitty home to their new house. All's well that end's well, or however that saying goes.

Happy for them, but a little sad for us, because I had just gotten my mind wrapped around adding another kitty to our house! And she was very pretty indeed.

Upside: I got a chance to chat with the landlord, who agreed to let me have the 50s era steel motel chairs (like these) that have been sitting in the rental's back yard, unused and ignored, for three years now.  They were left behind by the first tenant he had after he bought the place, and the next two tenants have ignored them and left them to sit in the weeds.   So I shamelessly and sweetly asked if I could have them, and he agreed. "I know they're antique chairs, " he said. "But they're not doing anyone any good sitting back there. Go ahead and take them."

Yay! (Although I feel a little guilty for begging, he could have taken them home with him if he wanted them for himself!)

Say It With Me.

  My husband helped to elect the new Lutheran Church Missouri Synod president, and all I got was this gigantic blue mug.

(Actually, I'm not complaining.  I'm glad Mad Musician was a delegate, and I absolutely love the mug he brought back for me.)

I Was Going for "Aladdin Lamp"

I guess I should have figured that starting off a search with "dating" would lead to disaster. We have a very old Aladdin lamp; I'd like to figure out exactly how old it is.

But goodness, who knew that Alabama was the world headquarters for "speed dating?" Sheesh.

So Why

Why can a neighbor across the alley and down a few houses raise puppies for sale on his property - a city-sized lot within the city limits - but I can't have three egg-laying hens?

There's a city ordinance that says any chickens have to be 150 feet away from any residence.  How convenient it is that the deepest city lots are ta-da! 150 feet. 

Hens don't bark.  Other people's dogs get loose and poo on my lawn.  I wouldn't let my hens do that, if I had some.  

But, since this is Town, and hens are Farm, and Town people live in Town because they don't like Farm*, I suspect there would be an awful lot more objections raised to changing the city ordinance here than there has been in places like Naperville, IL,  Madison, WI and even Los Angeles.

I can't fight the battle this year.  But someday, I will.




*Neighbor of my neighbor objected to my neighbor growing sweet corn and other foods.   "We don't live on a farm!" she exclaimed with disgust.  Never mind that this entire town, which measures less than a mile and half square, is completely surrounded by nothing but farms.  Little hairs from the soybeans fall on our cars during the harvest. We're plagued by soybean aphids and the stupid Asian lady beetles imported to eat them.  We routinely have huge grain wagons trucking through town in the fall, and giant monster sprayers transversing town in the spring.  Lady, if you don't like Farm, you really need to move!

Small Town Spring

My Signs of Spring

Mulch bags are set out for sale at the gas stations.

The light is different.

Mud is everywhere.

My basement is warmer.  Still cold enough to chill fine wines, but warm enough to get some sewing done.

I hear a rototiller being started in the neighborhood.

I can see the shape of my flowerbeds because most of the snow is gone.

One neighbor puts the rest of his Christmas decorations away.

Another neighbor buys this year's backyard greenhouse structure and sets it up.

I can get the mail off the porch without bundling up in a heavy coat. 

Squirrels are...  ummm....  busy doing stuff in my backyard.

I see the first insect buzzing around outside. 

NASCAR has three races in the bag already.

The cat doesn't immediately turn around and scoot back in the house when she gets out. 

The furnace doesn't run quite as much.

A friend on Facebook announces his Indianapolis 500 tickets have arrived.

Other friends on Facebook are talking about disciplining the season.  I don't get that - why does Spring need training? But they seem very excited by the idea.   Whatever. 

And finally, the saucer magnolias have the cutest little kitten-fuzzy thumb-sized buds on them.