Swamp Musings

*sigh* Thought the good ol' Borrelia had finally been evicted. If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans...

Finally got feeling good enough to try and get into town last Wednesday for supplies not purchased on the short job of 21 October, been out of LPG, back to homemade dawg feed cooked on the electric, and still needed a muffler for the rotary machete so I could mow the roof and remove the atrium sun shades. That, and the groceries bought last pass were only supposed to last until the following weekend. Other than truly not enjoying running the gamut of the ill-timed plethora of traffic lights spaced a couple of blocks apart just to get past the motels, fast food joints, trailer and car lots to get to the first merchant, there was the annual lost yankee flux and lingering glop from the pink eye (again). There is a bright spot. I always get all shiny and clean when going into the burg. There are people there. Some are girl-wimmin-type people and they are so nice to look at! Since there was no replacement for the muffler on the 27 year old Briggs & Stratton engine on the rotary machete to be had locally (let your fingers do the walking) and since B & S provided 3/4" NPT threading on the exhaust port, the generic in-line with a street ell works just as well if one has a tap to clean out the quarter-century plus of carbon. Lowes for the LPG and the muffler. ***sigh*** Went to the service counter to trade gas jugs. Oh to be 30 years younger. I wept. Ethereally lovely. Went and bought my muffler parts (made in China) and then asked for the gas bottle trade. Another gal, a near perfect version of Jaclyn Smith at the age of 25, came out to unlock the bottle cage. Perfectly trim, perfectly feminine, hoisted the new jug (~40 lbs) out and when I went to take it from her to put it in the cart, she developed a sincere expression of worry on her lovely face before asking me if I was sure I could handle it. I know I've gone badly downhill during the bouts with RF, didn't know I looked that bad until the next stop.

Went to the fancy grocery store that I've not been into for 4-5 years. Pricy but the only place outside of Gainesville one can find certain items that make living a bit more enjoyable and I've been without them for a long time. A fella that had probably been collecting Social Security for 5 years or so bagged my goods and decided I needed help hauling it out and loading same in the buggy. He was damn-near right but hey, whyfo he noticed? 'tis true I was wearing the jeans that I'd put on the go-to-flea market pile several years ago due to being way too snug and I was using one hand to keep from looking like a rapper. Boys just look ridiculous with their britches hanging low, old men, well, it's OK if they had to get them out of the Salvation Army bin. Not a lot of selection there.

There were 2 more stops of the 6 on my list to make but with daylight running out, I didn't want to trust my night vision just yet. Went all Scarlett with "another day" and came back to the swamp and was met by a couple of insanely happy dawgs. One would think the prodigal son had returned. Sheesh. 4 hours. Sheps do have a tendency to fuss when things in their environment changes. Remember this photo and the story that went with it?


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Got 'er done. Well, parts of it. I got a heck of a kick out of poor Rima when I was cleaning all the carbon out of the exhaust threading. 1/4 turn at a time, horrible screeching. She was convinced I was murdering poor old George! Imagine fingernails on chalkboard mixed with the sound of brutal murder! She and George survived and I got the new hardware installed. One snort of gas with the air cleaner off and then off and rolling. Nope. The Chinee tires and tubes were airless as usual. Had to go get my Chinee pump (twice replaced hose & nozz), then re-fire. Mowed up around Rustbucket as it is high time the critter gets charged and fired.

Bird nest. Too big for a Carolina wren, about the right size for a Chimney Swift. Usually wood rats or the occasional Norway rat moves in. Wood rats and birds are OK, Norway rats require the use of CCI product # 00039.

Drug out the 100' multiply puppy-chewed extension cord and my recently repaired 1970 Western Auto battery charger and it'll be hot enough to light the Luscombe in the morning. It'll get noisy in the neighborhood, especially when I roll it over to where my firewood/garden cart has been residing. It's needed here. No tag, no insurance, blown-out leader pipe... uh oh. Nope. It won't be driven. This place is powder dry and it'll light up all the dried growth from the lane to the hard road. Got a slight image of the same when running George through the roof jungle with the Chinee Makarov muffler. Stuff kept falling on it and catching on fire. Rustbucket spits flames.

Off to the roof. I bloody hate mowing that goddam roof. Got enough done to get to the atrium panels and got them off and stowed until April. 40 minute break to re-learn breathing. It's a pisser getting so wore down that so little takes so much. Usual results during re-coop and anyone that has endured such knows about getting all the stuff working right again. Next task was to finally mow out the 8' tall weeds in the collard patch. Sheesh, there is one particular weed that can't be pulled, so tough that it tears up weed-eaters, and really likes growing in the collard patch.

Roof gals:


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All heads scritched, all tools put up, might take a look at the nooz on the net. Medium probability since it'll be SSDD with the Religion of Pieces probably murdering in the usual fashion, the moonbat party calling for their own heads by past emissions, some or the other of the jackasses wanting more for less, SSDD. I get a smile out of a hatful of bloggers and there I'll go.

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