Friday, June 16, 2006
gaaaah!
I'll get around to That ^ in a moment or so..
Monday eve was really awful nice. Came back in with happy mud-covered, wrinkled toes and smelling more than likely just like the gleeful wet hound what thinks digging holes in the rain is a hell of a lot of fun! Turned on the tooob, all disaster, all the time. Had this chick weenie all decked out in storm gear a New England fisherman would wear if'n he was in a nor'easter with 30 foot waves. The wind was hell, all of maybe 10 mph with gusts up to 15 and it HAD rained a bit in the last half hour. Hang on to that nor'easter helmet gal, doan wanna get the "doo" damp... sheesh. The hysterical weathercritter was pronouncing all the mandatory evacs, huge rainfall amounts, and near hurricane force winds with humungous gusts and spin-off tornados 'sposed to wrack my QTH up by dawn. Funny that the NOAA site didn't mention any of that. yawn. Toob off. Listening to the beautiful rain on the tin cap of the atrium and smelling that good wet air was all the amusement needed whilst fixing myself the anti-social supper. Olive oil with lots of fresh garlic plus a diced banana pepper, a 'mater, various herbs from the rack, some more garlic, some diced-up mystery meat in the fridge that wasn't green, some more garlic, and a pot of boiled up angel hair. Mmmmmm! Ate it lying in the rack just like a sea otter with an abalone with the steady rain making my ears happy, the good air doing the same with the nose, and re-reading, best I can recall, a collection of Arthur Machen short stories for the second time in 33 years (I kinda hang on to books).
The light was flickering pretty often which is perfectly normal when anything other than a light fog happens. I'd already rigged for the TS stuff but thought maybe since most of my dishes were in the dishwasher that hadn't been run in four days, oughta get up and run a load. Who knows, a big wet limb might fall on the power line leading down into the swamp and I'd have to do them by hand. With creek water. In the creek. Being at the end of a loong line and not being what you call a "high priority user", I'm low on the FPL food chain. *sigh* Got my all-kinds-of-contented butt into the upright and operating position, went into the kitchen, then felt around for the pull-chain on the ceiling fan/light. GAAAAH!
The taloned, 6-fingered hand of the infant Antichrist previously hanging on the chain latched on to my inner elbow and scrabbled (leaving a grevious trail of bloody wounds) directly into my armpit. Scooped that demonic creature out and flung it. Light on, rotated 60 degrees clockwise, grabbed the Steve H. MK II roach cannon, rotated into target acquisition and NAILED the bastich! Hip-shot. 12 feet (the SH MK II was set on full choke).
Roaches have a valued place in the eco-system. They eat just about everything. The buzzards of the forest floor. I'm not too happy sharing my sleeping and eating space with them for some very obvious reasons (see above) however they are not the penultimate low-lifes. Mark Twain thought it was Frenchmen. I'm pretty sure it's divorce lawyers. Hey Steve H., you old legal thing, got a design for them? ;o)
* * * * * *
TS AlbertiepooGore was a sweetie. Slow, gentle rain, 6" of it with a bit 'o fun when the center went over the next afternoon. Nice hiking weather if one stayed out of the climax woods. Huge old trees get pruned by wind and with the spring growth plus being rather damp, limbs have a tendency of falling off. Climax woods get pruned by wet growth, not wetbacks, gringos get pruned by wetbacks. *sigh*
* * * * * *
Interesting Quicktime clip to watch with your morning cup of joe. Reminds me of some fever dreams I've had in the past.
Hey ya'll, watch this!
If you missed Lilek's Screedblog a couple of days ago, it's good stuff!
* * * * * *
Time to go play outside for the couple or 3 hours before Florida turns into the daily sauna.
Monday eve was really awful nice. Came back in with happy mud-covered, wrinkled toes and smelling more than likely just like the gleeful wet hound what thinks digging holes in the rain is a hell of a lot of fun! Turned on the tooob, all disaster, all the time. Had this chick weenie all decked out in storm gear a New England fisherman would wear if'n he was in a nor'easter with 30 foot waves. The wind was hell, all of maybe 10 mph with gusts up to 15 and it HAD rained a bit in the last half hour. Hang on to that nor'easter helmet gal, doan wanna get the "doo" damp... sheesh. The hysterical weathercritter was pronouncing all the mandatory evacs, huge rainfall amounts, and near hurricane force winds with humungous gusts and spin-off tornados 'sposed to wrack my QTH up by dawn. Funny that the NOAA site didn't mention any of that. yawn. Toob off. Listening to the beautiful rain on the tin cap of the atrium and smelling that good wet air was all the amusement needed whilst fixing myself the anti-social supper. Olive oil with lots of fresh garlic plus a diced banana pepper, a 'mater, various herbs from the rack, some more garlic, some diced-up mystery meat in the fridge that wasn't green, some more garlic, and a pot of boiled up angel hair. Mmmmmm! Ate it lying in the rack just like a sea otter with an abalone with the steady rain making my ears happy, the good air doing the same with the nose, and re-reading, best I can recall, a collection of Arthur Machen short stories for the second time in 33 years (I kinda hang on to books).
The light was flickering pretty often which is perfectly normal when anything other than a light fog happens. I'd already rigged for the TS stuff but thought maybe since most of my dishes were in the dishwasher that hadn't been run in four days, oughta get up and run a load. Who knows, a big wet limb might fall on the power line leading down into the swamp and I'd have to do them by hand. With creek water. In the creek. Being at the end of a loong line and not being what you call a "high priority user", I'm low on the FPL food chain. *sigh* Got my all-kinds-of-contented butt into the upright and operating position, went into the kitchen, then felt around for the pull-chain on the ceiling fan/light. GAAAAH!
The taloned, 6-fingered hand of the infant Antichrist previously hanging on the chain latched on to my inner elbow and scrabbled (leaving a grevious trail of bloody wounds) directly into my armpit. Scooped that demonic creature out and flung it. Light on, rotated 60 degrees clockwise, grabbed the Steve H. MK II roach cannon, rotated into target acquisition and NAILED the bastich! Hip-shot. 12 feet (the SH MK II was set on full choke).
Roaches have a valued place in the eco-system. They eat just about everything. The buzzards of the forest floor. I'm not too happy sharing my sleeping and eating space with them for some very obvious reasons (see above) however they are not the penultimate low-lifes. Mark Twain thought it was Frenchmen. I'm pretty sure it's divorce lawyers. Hey Steve H., you old legal thing, got a design for them? ;o)
* * * * * *
TS AlbertiepooGore was a sweetie. Slow, gentle rain, 6" of it with a bit 'o fun when the center went over the next afternoon. Nice hiking weather if one stayed out of the climax woods. Huge old trees get pruned by wind and with the spring growth plus being rather damp, limbs have a tendency of falling off. Climax woods get pruned by wet growth, not wetbacks, gringos get pruned by wetbacks. *sigh*
* * * * * *
Interesting Quicktime clip to watch with your morning cup of joe. Reminds me of some fever dreams I've had in the past.
Hey ya'll, watch this!
If you missed Lilek's Screedblog a couple of days ago, it's good stuff!
* * * * * *
Time to go play outside for the couple or 3 hours before Florida turns into the daily sauna.
