Yesterday we mowed. My neighbor has been trying to mow his yard with a little bitty electric push mower. That's fine for a little bitty urban yard, where I live it's all half acre lots. The guy would finish mowing and it would be time to start again. Did I mention that he's in his seventies? Anyhow we got together and took turns on my riding tractor mower and we knocked out both yards after Rush yesterday.
In other news we replaced our back door, the original door was made out of some kind of plastic, the dogs had clawed a humongus hole through it and were using it for a doggie door. This did not last, before winter came we covered up the fake doggie door with plywood. My pal Steve works in the flooring biz, plus whatever else he can manage to keep food on the table, he started looking for a door in good shape from a remodel job, found a nice French door and took it home. He eventually came out and put it in, now we have a real back door, hopefully it will be a while before CAP claws her way through. Seeing as how everything that isn't glass is real, solid wood we ought to have a few years. Of course Linda Lou hates the sound of dog claws on glass. I am deaf enough to not hear it. I also can not hear an Obama speech on the TV. Lucky me.
So we now have the old back door and a bunch of other crap out on the street for a "large object" pick up from our trash service.One of the joys of country life is paying extra for large object trash pickup. This is one reason why one sees so much junk around in the country.
So tomorrow I'm going to the range for a "work day". We are going to mow some, paint the steel targets, put up a sign and do some general upkeep around in and on the buildings.
Linda Lou brought home two pounds of bulk Pinto Beans, a couple of onions and a three pound bag of bacon ends and pieces. So I cut the bag in half, fried up that bacon and put it in the soaked beans with an onion and a half, some chili powder, Cumin, Oregano, Sage, salt and pepper and a can of Ro-Tel Tomatoes and Chilis. It's simmering over a low heat. Tonite I'll make some corn muffins and eat 'til I near explode. Then sleep with the window open.
I poured the bacon grease over the dog food, they love that and I'm told it's good for their coats.
The Puppyblender linked to a James Joyner piece about how men's underwear sales going down are a sign of recession/depression. A while ago I read somewhere that men buying themselves new underwear, without being forced by their wives, is a sign that the husband might be cheating. So, are we in a recession or are more men being faithful? Probably both, seeing as how it takes money to have an affair.
This is why Linda Lou doesn't worry about me running wild with some honey from Home Depot. (Thanks, LeeAnn) I never have any more unaccounted for money than could come from skipping lunch. Or new underwear. Anyhow I hope that link works, it's the funniest thing I've read in days. Nope, go see Look! A Baby Wolf! from Monday, Apr 6th. As much as I love to read the things I find on the interwebs I hate trying to make these things work.
I heard on Rush that the President of the United States of America has nothing to say about the Somali pirates holding a US citizen hostage, instead he says we're talking about housing. Just out of curiosity, who the hell does he think he is? Hey Barry! You work for us! Don't you dare tell us what we need to talk about. You, sir, have no, zero, repeat no constitutional authority over housing. You do, however, have the duty to protect Americans from pirates.
Now I read that they're sending an FBI hostage negotiator team over there. We don't need the Feebs, we need someone from SEAL Team One in Coronado or SEAL TEAM Two from Little River. Come on, Barry, we figured out what to do about pirates back when Britain outlawed the slave trade. When we see a pirate we kill him. We hang them, we drown them, we shoot them. We do not negotiate with them. We've elected an Urkel with delusions of adequacy. A pencil necked geek trying to get even for being picked on in middle school. Barry, I'm sorry your momma fell in with an abandoning louse, don't take it out on my grandchildren, though. Or your own daughters.
I gotta go, I promised myself to write a blog the kids can read to their kids and thinking about this clown makes me want to spew ugly words.
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