The other day SueK sent a link to a blog she’d found. A New Jersesian transplanted to North Carolina. Funny stuff. I can’t find the link but it is to a blog authored by someone who we both figured out was no more. Given that she was in NC, it wasn’t hard to find her
via American Digest. Well worth 11 minutes of your life.
That’s what NOAA Weather Radio is telling me this morning.
When Daughter C and the J-Man left the Farm, they left behind about 13 overflowing boxes’ worth of crappy old books. Mind, none of the books were actually in boxes when they left, they were on shelves and other surface areas of the Apartment. Months later, one of the tasks the Farmhand pretended to do
You know where it’s from. I’ll put the link up after coffee.
It is fenced in. There is fishing line randomly strewn about. I have a Yard Guard that emits ultrasonic frequencies. I have two radios tuned into noise. I spray Liquid Fence all over the freaking place. Short of putting Rocky & Missy in there for the night I am out of ideas.
[FYI: That random “iv” is a link to a reference.] Check out the comments. The articles have generated quite a bit of discussion. Turns out I’m not the only one who likes crappy old books. Final part tomorrow.
“Here Jack!” Or, if you are of a mind, “Here Kyle!”* And more often than not, he comes– especially if you have a carrot in your hand. The other day we drove the truck into the pasture and he came right up. I did learn that petting him across the barbed wire was foolish and
I entered one. We’ll see how it goes.
A. Drudge Work Monday and there’s no getting around it today. Mr. Big Food tied up one of the kitchen trash bags in preparation for the taking out of the trash and then went out to cut The Peninsula. I was employed in pepper picking. When he returned to the kitchen, Mr. Big Food discovered
That was Mr. Big Food yesterday evening– positively giddy. He said this was his favorite time of year. Moussaka with homegrown eggplant. Stuffed green peppers. Fresh lemon cucumbers for the salad. Home. Grown. Tomatoes. What would life be without homegrown tomatoes? I cannot argue with his sentiment.
. [full top] Now what?
Came as a complete surprise this morning! Male. Four or five years old. Very gentle– can pet him and lead him around on a leash. So we’re in the donkey business!
Powerline’s The Week in Pictures
is safe in the hands of it’s clever people. –Lancelot Hogben, Mathematics, the Mirror of Civilization
Amateur Radio. Mr. Big Food is on board, too. We are going to get out amateur radio licenses and some equipment. Blog silence is thus explained. It’s all quite interesting. I’m taking notes. SueK– I found this to be the best bird’s eye view introduction to ham radio. Almost jargon free and very accessible for
I just stepped outside and heard a siren! Almost unheard of out here.
You won’t believe it! Thunderstorm.
Any talk of saving culture, or restoring culture, begins with a defense of the humanities. Any hope of cultural revival equally begins with a re-emergence of the humanities. Any hope to truly celebrate—though not uncritically—the human person rests with being drenched in the dewfall of the humanities. The death of the humanities really does mean
NOAA weather radio is beeping at us. Flash flood warning. Up to three inches of rain has already fallen. Mr. Big Food remarks that he will not be cutting today. I need coffee.