This week’s edition of our local newspaper reported an apparent murder-suicide. Mr. Big Food heard about it from the folk in his carpool. According to the newspaper, the man called 911. Lots of police & sheriff folk responded. They found him and his wife. Pending investigation, it’s an “apparent” murder-suicide. They were in their 70s.

Joe texted to say he could not come out this evening to try to fix the lawn tractor for us on account of the fact that there was a bad fire. Joe’s a volunteer firefighter. The folks lost everything, including their four pets.

1-2-3-4 pets. And everything.

Mississippi news websites are reporting that Congressman Trent Kelly was “targeted” this morning. A) Kelly does not look to me to be in any condition to be playing competitive baseball; 2) that he happened– by chance on account of his desire to signal his “competitiveness”– to be somewhere where someone was non-randomly shooting non-random people does not make Kelly a “target”; c) Nobody gives a rat’s ass about Mississippi. Stop trying to make it so.

In other news– “Brockmire” is worth watching; we’ve spotted the first of the cukes; grade inflation meets Bruno/Bickle/Bernstein/Cooper– and I can plot a mean (yuck!!) graph to show it; and hey you dumb stupid Rep from NW NY state– You say you have a carry permit? From NY state? Guess what? Not recognized in DC. or MD. So I’m counting you as “all-in” on reciprocal carry, right? As Leslie Winkle likes to say, “Dumb ass.”

I guess that’s it for news.

I’ll wrap this up with a BIG shout out to SueK. Thanks for sticking around!

The Summer House

Mostly, we go to sleep in the Bunkhouse– also known as the Jagerhaus– in the wintertime, when the power goes out. The furnace fans in the Big House require power but the little propane wall unit in the Bunkhouse just burns propane and generates heat.  It can be right cozy back in the Bunkhouse– also known (for these very same reasons) as the Hunting House– in the wintertime.

This time is a bit different.

We have had– knock on wood– no interruption in power supply.

But both of our A/C units fell victim to age on the same day. No Kidding.

FORTUNATELY! The wall A/C unit in the Bunkhouse Jagerhaus Summer House works quite well. It cools and conditions the air.

For the last few evenings & nights, The Bunkhouse, also known as the Jagerhaus, has   become our Summer House.


Mr. Travis came out– on Joe’s recommendation– and he fixed the A/C unit that keeps Snaps’ side of the house cool.

We’ve had a lot of rain, and the temperature– when the sun isn’t shining– has barely gotten above 80 degrees. So we’ve opened windows and the big house isn’t hot. But over on the western side– the master bedroom side– it’s cool and damp, what with the open windows and the rain.

So we’re spending another night in the Summer House.

See also all posts dealing with REDUNDANCY.



From the Department of Redundancy Department

We have two separate A/C units for the Big House. One has been failing for quite some time and finally bit the bullet yesterday. The other smaller unit– God bless its pea-pickin’ heart– rolled over & died yesterday.

RIP. Both units were 25+ years old.

So the air in the Big House is not currently conditioned.

We have several fellows working on it.

It’s warm in there.

Fortunately, 🙂

It’s cool as cucumbers back here in the Bunkhouse.

Apparently, there’s a conspiracy to In Farm News…

This was Daughter C’s idea. We had, up in the workshop, a perfectly nice old enamel topped segment of kitchen cupboard that we brought with us from Cincinnati. It was in the basement in Cincy and we thought enough of it to tote it to Miss’ippi.

Daughter C suggested that it might find purpose in its old age on the patio.

It’s not all that heavy. But combined with it’s size, it’s awkward for one person to move. I thought through several options. Note that the shop is on significantly higher ground than the patio. So it’s downhill all the way.

I finally settled on tipping it over onto a 4-wheeled dolly and pushing it downhill.

We took the long way around to avoid steps.

We made it!

After hours and hours of cleaning up the patio, the cupboard springs to new life– spider nest free!



I takes energy to stay organized.


It was a sunny day today.

For the Birds

Look how we got us some electric wires to sit on.

They come & go all day long, the birds do. Sitting on those wires.

Just the other day there was a fight– in the grass— between two male bluebirds.

Where is our internet?


Breakfast for Supper

Both Mr. Big Food and I were impressed and satisfied by the breakfasts we had in Israel.

This is Mr. Big Food testifying.

These are waffles.


Your could, like, have a 60-acre farm.

It’s Up Hill Both Ways

Over the next few months we– collectively all of us and our distant relatives, there is a wedding, afterall,– are going to be doing a lot of traveling.

Kat just forwarded to me her American Airlines receipt email.

It said

Menu: Food for Purchase

The first airplane ride I ever took was a short flight from Dulles many many years ago to one of the NYC airports. I remember that we were ferried by helicopter to the other one. It was a big helicopter.

Ah! The email that I sent myself with the photos has arrived. BRB.

Aw. The photos are downloading.

Anyway, my second airplane ride was from some airport in the vicinity of NYC to Frankfort. There were printed menus that were about 1/3 of a piece of paper. There were suggested wine pairings. It was a sampling menu.

I’ve flown a little bit recently, and each time I fly, I am reminded of why I hate flying.

I knew things had gone down hill when we were on a Delta flight from Cincinnati to Budapest back in the Dark Ages when homes were illuminated by the warm glow of a 60-watt incandescent light bulb. The Delta magazine said Woodford Reserve was available on every trans-Atlantic flight. So I asked for Woodford Reserve because Cincinnati is just across the river from Kentucky. And bourbon was just becoming vogue.

(The martini phase was fun.)

The photos have arrived!

Anyway. I was told there was no Woodford Reserve.

And so I got out a black magic marker from my bag (I really do carry markers with me on big trips) and I wrote, “LIAR” in the boldest handwritten font I had in me.

This was my first real life confrontation with the epistemology of words.

Like. Words have meanings.

It’s all Gauker’s fault.

A Gardening Post

I am over-run with books right now. And I have not, regrettably not, finished Spring Cleaning. That’s essential. That and the list for Daughter C.

But Daughter C has caught the gardening bug. And so I am thinking about the garden, and trying to supplement Daughter C’s reading with some experience.

Here we go.

Miss M gave me– as in paid for, or maybe, come to think of it, I might have paid for them, anyway– . I have two small grandiflora gardenias. They are the backbone of a larger front door landscaping plan. Though we took pains to tend to them, they were turning yellow. (I can do that. Change tenses like that. There’s a term and there’s a book for that.)

Here’s how much we care about those gardenias– Daughter C surrounded them with some fragments of the brick planters that were busted out when they put in the French drain so that those two bedrooms wouldn’t flood anymore.

I pride myself on thinking though what the problem was.

Gardenias are acid-loving. Brick planters are made with bricks and mortar. Mortar is lime-based. Mortar is soluble.


Mind you, I didn’t come to this in a flash. I first did two different kinds of “acid-loving-plant” fertilizers. One responded better than the other.

Two different fertilizers. How do they differ?

What are the pathways… .


Over the years The Girls have given me all manner of potentially useful and yet very inexpensive things relating to the garden. One was a packet of three little tubes and flakes of something that sort of made sense, pH-wise. The brighter green, the more alkaline or something.

I will be danged.

So I started piling coffee grounds around them and got some soil acidifier and we mulched with pine bark.


Today I was in Tractor Supply and it hit me to ask if they had a soil pH tester. The woman at TSC was more knowledgeable about soil pH testers than the woman at Walmart, though she did try to help. She even asked another W-M associate.

I would not be opposed to a movement that favored establishments which placed a premium on excellent customer service at a reasonable price.

That’s a slogan I said. You CANNOT use it.


I was looking forward to Great American.


Anyway, they had a regulation soil pH tester WITH BONUS NUTRIENT TESTER for a mere $20. The ones I saw on Amazon started at like $40.

And sure enough… .


I mixed up a couple of gallons of soil acidifier plus iron or something.

And thus concludes “A Gardening Post.”

I think every women should have a serious come to Jesus moment with some sort of textile based thing, something related to food, and to her own garden.

The Next Several Hours

There’s a chance of rain, which is fine by me.

I’ve noticed something. Those who have followed along know that I have a thing about– some issues with– weather forecasting. Even before I started to blog I kept spreadsheets of forecasts and actuals. The columns were, The Weather And I did some reading. I have some books.

What I’ve noticed is that the probability of precipitation has become increasingly more like look out the freaking window.

So first off, you need to define a time frame. It used to be that people watched television in the morning while they– BY THE WAY, SEE HOW FREAKING EASY IT IS TO WRITE A SENTENCE WHERE THE NOUN AND VERB AGREE IN NUMBER– made coffee. That’s what Mr. Big Food does.

Our current Weather Guy is Joel, but– and you can ask The Girls about this– we’ve had other Weather Guys in our lives.

So Mr. Big Food brings me coffee and then he goes back into the kitchen to listen to Joel’s forecast.

I think there is an assumption that the probability of precipitation that a fellow like Joel would make and repeat several times between 5:30 and 8 O’Clock in the morning would have a shelf life of about 18-24 hours.

For example, “There’s a good chance it will rain later this afternoon.”

So I go outside and I see a very blue sky– and I spent some time in Eastern Carolina, I know what a blue sky looks like– and I look at the radar on my phone. As I zoom out I see that the left side of my screen is green & yellow & orange.

In the moment, there is 0 chance of rain.

Looking forward, there is about* 100% chance of rain.

What the weather folk have taken to do is to update their % based on observation. Very Beysian. But not as helpful to long term planning as “There’s a good chance it will rain later this afternoon.”

If I just looked at my phone in a moment in time, I would have thought that the chance of rain, today, was 40%– as the wind blew West.

It’s pouring down rain out there.

See above.