The Ultimate Answer to Kings

Last year I had nothing but trouble from my homemade water heater. 200 feet of black hose was so filled with calcium scale that it took forever to get water running freely – in fact I had trouble off and on for most of the summer.

So in November I thought I’d do something smart: I hauled it all down, separated the hose segments and laid them out on a slope so water wouldn’t stand in them, freezing and thawing to break the scale loose from the rubber. Gosh but I’m smart.

And it probably did some good, but this morning when I hauled the first hose off the hillside and connected it to pressure, no water came out the far end. Then the barest trickle came out. Ten minutes later: Barely a trickle. But clearly visible was a big plug of calcium scale, so I got an awl from the powershed and started stabbing the plug – and that worked! After a few minutes of that, I got clear running water! Yay!

The second hose was exactly the same, and so was the third. The fourth, for a wonder, ran clear right away.

So that was time-consuming and really not in the schedule but there’s no doubt it saved me a lot of hassle down the line. Once all four hoses were clear I hooked them one at a time into the heat exchanger box, first replacing their gaskets and wrenching them down nice and tight. And then when I went to test it…

Bingo. Works like new.

Now I expect the weather to go cloudy and cold again, just to be a jerk.

Every two months Big Brother sends Tobie a care package in the form of a sack of expensive dogfood. And I meant to ask him to hold off on this one, because with D&L stuck in “therapy every weekday” mode the only way I can go to the post office on a weekday is on the bike, and that box is too big for the bike.

But as it happens there was no trip to the therapist today. L asked me if I wanted to go to town and I said yes, even though it was likely to be a wasted trip: The box was due today, which almost always means available for pickup tomorrow. But it must have arrived early because they had it logged in and waiting for me. And now that worry is out of the way.

As I was cutting up the box and stuffing the pieces into the burn barrel I noticed that I had forgotten something important in the yard…

I took the fence down from the pear tree in November to prune the tree and didn’t bother putting it back up. BIG mistake, which until now the cattle – which are all over the damned place – have let me get away with. Uncle Murphy apparently hadn’t whispered into their ears yet.

Needed a bit of a prune anyway because the trunk was full of suckers, but now they’re gone and the fence is back up so the tree should be safe through another cattle season.

To wit: Tobie loves cattle and wants to get to know everything about them. I hate cattle with the incandescence of a thousand suns.

And the most wonderful thing about cattle – from Tobie’s point of view – is that they leave him so many presents. Smelly, gooey, tasty presents. And he’s gotta catch’em all.

Could be worse, I suppose. Ghost liked to roll in the shit.

Okay, so two nights ago we had a herd overnight in the yard, then in the morning take its dear sweet time about moving away. I ended up rampaging out in the yard with a handgun to drive them away. (What I said about the pistol primarily being a noisemaker? Yeah.) Okay, that’s just Tuesday around here but the problem is that Tobie now wants to study every slightest nuance of every cow present: Every hoofprint and especially every dropping must be studied minutely – and in the case of droppings, at least sampled. He is aware that I hate it when he does this, it’s a dispute we’ve had off and on since he was a pup. He simply doesn’t see why I object to shit-eating: I mean, isn’t that what it’s for? And so every walkie turns into this cat-and-mouse game where he rushes ahead to the full extent of his walking lead and then goes full stealth mode to get at least one nibble in before I commence yelling at him.

And of course since cattle dislike soft sand as much as I do, we tend to use the same beaten paths. Cattle are as filthy in their eliminatory habits as goats and chickens; they just raise their tail and let fly when the urge strikes without even breaking stride, so now my favorite paths are just coated in the (literal) shit. I was out yesterday and this morning with a shovel getting it moved off to the side of my driveway and the paths immediately near the Lair. Sweartagod, people call dogs dirty but livestock makes dogs look fastidious as a Victorian dandy by comparison…

…just zoomed right over the scar of the record-breaking wildfire they had almost exactly 14 years ago.

There is zero chance of it coming here but I woke up at like 3 ayem this morning unable to breathe through my completely stuffed-up nose because…

…of that.

It’s been going on for most of a week, is completely out of control thanks to all the heavy wind fanning the flames and grounding the firefighting tankers, and there’s a good chance big towns will get evacuated. Again.

In the afternoon the smoke is just plumes far to the south, but overnight it all seems to come here and settle over the hills to screw with everybody’s sinuses. Obviously kind of a first-world problem compared to what the people in the fire’s path are going through, but I am reminded that the last time this happened we had all sorts of interesting wildlife issues as unusual animals were driven north up the wash channel(s) to say hi. I’m thinking of switching back to the .44 for the duration.

Still repairing minor winter damage around the ol’ Secret Lair…

Early in the winter the kitchen’s propane regulator froze up one frigid morning. Being on the sunward side of the cabin it probably would have been fine a little later but I don’t need coffee “a little later.” So I went out to the powershed for my old camping stove, then later in the day I swapped out the bypass regulator for the original Plan B regulator – which has never let me down, and which should have been my first clue that I was doing something wrong.

The second clue: This is the second time in two winters that a nearly-new regulator has frozen up at that spot. Coincidence? I think not. But I was struggling for an explanation when a TUAK commenter just up and told me what it was. (This will come as a huge surprise to regular readers who have grown dependent upon my near-omniscience and incredible skill, but) I was doing it wrong.

What’s more, I did it wrong ON PURPOSE, way back in 2011 when I drilled the hole through the wall for that pipe to the kitchen stove. I don’t recall exactly why I wanted fluid to drain back toward the regulator, but that’s what I wanted and that’s what I got. It didn’t start causing trouble until I started using a bypass regulator in that spot – but apparently a little frozen moisture goes a long way in a bypass regulator. So – I got the fittings I needed to re-set the regulator more-or-less vertical, and hopefully that will be the end of early winter morning stove failures as we carry on.

Unfortunately, now I find that the regulator no longer fits under the simple cover I have always stood on top of the bottles to protect the regulator from rain and drips – of which that side of the cabin sees lots during the rainy season – so I’m going to have to do something more elaborate before Monsoon.

Don’t know what I was worried about, it went like a breeze.

Now I can put my hillbilly water heater back together.

I needed to go to town yesterday to get some hardware for two stalled cabin chores. While there I would stop at the post office to get some small packages: The post office has been an issue lately because I normally come to town with D&L but they’re having to go to the big town about 50 miles away every single weekday for hyperbaric therapy and the only day L has for water/grocery runs is Saturday. Fine for water and groceries, not so great for the post office. But we’re getting into the warm season, so as long as the packages are small I can do that on my bike.

I knew it was a windy day. But you have to do more than just get up and out of my hollow before you can learn how windy it is: Where I live there are lots of junipers, you’d be polite to call them trees but they are mighty big bushes and tend to break up the wind. But once I got to the county road, where I parked the Jeep and unloaded the bike, I was in prairie: There wasn’t a tree in sight, the wind had a fetch of miles and was really blasting. Right into the teeth of my ride.

Motor assist or no motor assist I was gritting my teeth and working the gears to force the bike toward town against this really unpleasant wind. Once I got to town I decided that riding up the wide high road was a bad plan so I detoured onto side roads in an effort to escape the worst of the wind. Didn’t really work, but I finally struggled to the other side of town. Now everything I had to do was downhill and downwind: My work was more than half over. So I thought.

I went to the hardware, got my fittings and hose clamps, rode down the road to the post office. Now I had an issue: I never go anywhere on the bike without a tool bag strapped to the cargo rack…

…which renders the rack useless for anything else. Mostly it doesn’t matter because I have two big folding pannier bags but this time one of the packages was a new hiking cane.

I had to start using a cane in January because my old prosthesis started injuring me, and kept using it for a while until the new one was properly adjusted. Which it is, by the way: It’s no longer causing me pain and I don’t need the cane anymore but in the meantime I learned that when I’m out hiking I kind of liked using a cane. But the regular cane wasn’t cutting it during hikes: I’ve worn out two cane tips on the rocks and sand since January and wanted something with a spike. Hence the new cane even though I no longer need a cane for regular walking.

But getting back to the bike: Now I had a long skinny package to transport which meant I needed the cargo rack. It’s a little bit of a hassle but no big deal: I take the tool bag off, stick it in a pannier and then bungee the package to the rack, right? Except in this case I had a bunch of other stuff to rearrange in the panniers first so I set the tool bag off to the side “for a moment.” Arranged my packages, got on the bike and rode blithely away.

It was still really windy but now it was directly at my back: I was going 25 mph and sweating a little because I didn’t feel any wind at all. And it was mostly downhill. This was nice! I could go for this. And I was all the way across town and off pavement, starting to think about how I was going to pack this stuff in the Jeep, including what I was going to do with the tool bag…

Wait. Did I put the tool bag in the pannier? Oh shit.

I stopped the bike, dismounted, and rummaged through the panniers. No tool bag.

I turned around, facing back into the wind, and was so daunted by the prospect of going all the way back against all that wind that I actually considered ditching the whole thing. For a moment. But the bag was expensive, the chain was expensive, the inflator was expensive, and I finally got that thing just the way I like it and damn it all and the horse it rode in on. I heaved a sigh and commenced struggling upwind and uphill.

So I finally made it back to the post office, and of course there was no tool bag. “(Bad word!) (Bad word!) Somebody already stole it. Well, it’s my own damned fault.” And I was just turning the bike around to leave when I heard “Mr. Simon! Mr. Simon!”

I turned around and here was that nice post office lady I had spoken to maybe half an hour before, hurrying out the door and waving my tool bag around.

If I were a hugger I’d have hugged her. “Bless your heart!” I said. “Thank you so much!” And we exchanged smiles and I rode home again.

And I still have all my gear.

…than Tobie puts into choosing the exactly right spot for his morning poop.

It usually goes on for several minutes, requiring multiple locale changes and a lot of minute terrain examination, and is the principal reason for the long morning walkie. Sometimes he seems to vaporlock entirely, standing completely still and staring into space until I call him back to reality. 🙂 It’s possibly the most intellectually active part of his entire day.

This morning – after the morning poop, thankfully, or it would have derailed the entire endeavor – we went past Ian’s Cave to get a bottle of ice from his freezer, and in Ian’s front yard there was … a cow! A cow! This was very exciting, very rare to be in such close proximity to one, and unlike his predecessor Tobie had no idea how to respond. He jinked and barked, considered the possibility of charging the cow but then apparently thought better of it and put me between himself and the interloper. Tobie has met other larger animals, in the form of horses, and although they weren’t at all hostile they were quite large and Tobie never got comfortable with being too close.

The cow, of course, just stood there, intelligent as your average log. I’m pretty sure the Angus mix cattle the local ranchers use for breeding beef have had the brains bred right out of them, same as with laying hens. Breed bulls can be dangerous to approach on foot but an old cow is just inert. Through weary experience I did know what to do – I hollered and waved my arms to get through the cow’s thick skull that an outside entity required it to perform an action, and when it was slow to discern the nature of the required action I drew and fired a shot into the ground.

This is actually the most common use for a sidearm around here, and the reason I always keep it loaded with a cheap practice round in the spout, because it’s just going to be used as a noisemaker. No point spending expensive “super ‘splody” ammo on the situation. The cow did sluggishly arrive at the conclusion that I wished it to vacate the premises, but the shot had the unintended knock-on effect of starting a minor-league stampede among a group of previously unnoticed and much more excitable bull calves that had been playing down in the wash. Seeing that, the cow decided to join the others and quickened its pace. At no time did it ever seem to think there was anything about the sudden appearance of a strange man and large dog that should be considered concerning: It’s been around men and large dogs all its life, and all they ever do is boss it around and maybe occasionally stick a needle in its butt, so what’s the big deal? Geez, settle down. Everybody chill. Have a mouthful of dry grass and relax.

That is literally the most exciting thing that has happened around here all week: It’s just been another of those weeks. The weather continues to moderate: Yesterday it was almost somewhat kinda hot, today is starting out a lot cooler. I really am working on installing the new yard hydrant: I gathered buckets of gravel and this morning I dug the hole…

…which probably needs to go a bit deeper to accommodate the gravel but is basically done. I watched several videos on ways to install the hydrant, and they mostly agree that there’s no sense making a big production of it: the only thing I don’t have that I need is a couple of pipe clamps to firmly attach the hydrant pipe to the T-post I’ll knock into the hole next to the pipe before I add the gravel. Of course that PVC pipe will be cut off quite a lot deeper than it currently is: I know I already have the fitting I need to attach the hydrant pipe to the PVC. Apparently the only common mistake that causes hydrant failure is letting the drain valve be covered with gravel and/or dirt, which will eventually cause the drain to clog and fail. I’ll prevent that by cutting a hole in an old plastic bucket and putting it upside-down over the pipe between the gravel and the dirt to give the drain an air space.

So the only really hard part – digging the hole and gathering the gravel – is pretty much already done.

It was a weird winter – perfectly predictable that Spring would get it wrong as well. It’s damn near mid-May and I’m still sleeping in a hoodie with the bedroom heater on but that has to be coming to a whoa and even if it isn’t I have to get on with summer stuff.

Ergo…

…the semiannual switching-around-of-the-closet ritual in which all the winter-weight stuff goes into upended garbage bags, because this is the desert and the desert is a dusty place, and what little of the summer-weight stuff that hasn’t already been dragged out one at a time finds its way to the near end of the closet rod.

I’m having to rather painfully rethink my long-standing trouser strategy. Recently a friend of the blog gave me a stack of nice cargo pants so high I won’t live long enough to wear them all out, which means that I really need to put aside “keep your newest BDUs sacrosanct for town until the oldest ones completely fall apart.” This morning I actually found a couple of like-new BDU trous I had put under plastic in Autumn, just to keep them nice, which means I have an embarrassment of pants.

Meanwhile I’m starting to get outdoor stuff lined up: Soon I’ll be wanting to start my hillbilly water heater, which means I need a source of water in the yard. Since I lost my yard faucet early in January there currently isn’t one which means that new no-freeze hydrant needs to be job one. I still haven’t researched exactly how one goes about doing that but I do know I’m going to need some gravel for a drain field. So starting yesterday and finishing up today I’ve brought all my big old buckets out to Ian’s driveway where there still exists a bunch of cinder gravel left over from his leach field installation damn near 20 years ago. A lot of it has sort of migrated into the ground so the first step was to rake it all up and into piles, and Tobie and I spent part of the morning walkie scooping it into the buckets. Later today we’ll bring the Jeep around to cart them home.

And now I need to let Youtube teach me how to install a basic no-freeze hydrant so it doesn’t just fall over. I know it can be done, all my neighbors have had them for years, but I can’t quite visualize it. Then – sigh – I have to dig yet another hole around my plumbing. This one rather deep, but hopefully for the last time.

Week before last when my brothers were visiting we went to the Lowes in the big town about 50 miles away to get cable for a re-wiring job that’s been put off till I can get a second new charge controller. While there, I also wanted to get a proper soldering gun since my choices for soldering were an anemic iron older than me that wouldn’t even melt solder on the roll and a propane torch that pretty much vaporizes solder. I asked the very helpful apron guy for a recommendation, since I was going to be working on #8 wire or bigger, and he suggested…

…not a soldering gun at all but a “micro-torch.”

I was vaguely aware that these existed but never had one before, and I have to say – I’ve needed one basically for my entire adult life. I haven’t even had a chance to use it for soldering yet, but it’s the bee’s knees anything I need to set something on fire with less commotion that my regular propane torch. Does wonders at the burn barrel. If I could find a holster, I’d consider carrying the thing on my belt. 🙂

I put it on the Arex in mid-January, so about four months ago. And I like it!

I was really shy about spending the money, it retails for more than the pistol does, but I’ve found no reason to regret it.

There’s a couple of varieties of RMR and I got the one with a 3.25 MOA dot and no buttons at all. It automatically adjusts the dot brightness, there’s no way to manually influence it, and I was a little concerned about how it would deal with bright desert sun. It has no trouble with it at all, and even at full power there’s not the slightest bit of bloom. It’s very small and light, does one thing, does it very well, and doesn’t move on to the next thing because there is no next thing. It seems a little silly that such a simple little thing can cost so much money and I’d never put one on a range toy but for an every-day pistol that’s gonna get knocked around it’s absolutely great.

I’ve been trying to work on my speed on my little dueling tree and kept missing high, so today I put up a paper target to check the RMR’s zero. And at 20 yards…

…there’s clearly nothing wrong with the zero. That one flyer was all me. I can shoot faster with a good red dot, and with careful aiming I can also shoot more precisely with one than I ever could with iron sights. And a good one was what the Arex – or probably any other everyday-carry gun I have in future – really needed. Maybe a Holosun would have done as well? I have had one on my rifle with no complaints for years – but I don’t drag the rifle around on my belt through all conditions all day every day. So I’m not sorry I spent the money.

I’ve been sitting inside watching rain fall and wind blow, wondering where Spring went but this is supposed to be well over by tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. It certainly isn’t as bad today as it has been – the mud’s even drying somewhat.

Anyway, I had five days’ worth of laundry to take care of this morning, before the forecast afternoon rain…

…and I didn’t have to worry about the pressure pump running the batteries dry in the gloom, because yesterday I got totally fed up with “you can’t have a shower even though the inside of Ian’s Cave is warming up nicely, because it’s too gloomy for the pressure pump. You’ll make the whole system shut down, probably right after you’ve soaped up” and I did something a little rash…

The Honda was sitting in my powershed, drained of gas and under its nice cover, just waiting for the next time I needed a power tool – and I decided that Ian’s water pressure pump is now classed as a power tool. I hauled the generator and a gallon of gasoline into the back of the Jeep, and Tobie and I went for a ride. I had my bloody shower yesterday, and I’m bloody going to do it again today, and nobody can bloody stop me.

Really, the electricity situation at Ian’s has become such a problem that I’ve decided to do something I really didn’t want to do. See the solar panels in that first picture? Well, they’re facing more-or-less due east – Ian put the rack there “temporarily” back in 2009 because we needed power to assembly the frame of his dome. And it worked there perfectly well until 2020 when the pressure system and shower went in, and it continued to work well enough until about a year and a half ago when his big batteries died. And nothing’s been right since, and I’m sick of it.

I can move the rack, it’s just sitting on the ground, with the Jeep if I have one other set of hands to ensure the whole thing doesn’t upset while I’m doing it, and Neighbor S has offered to help. I just need to extend the power leads about 25-30 feet. Amazon sells the extension for not a lot of money. Then I should be able to get some ABS or even flexible conduit to run it over his porch/gazebo thingie. At worst there might be a little digging. I really don’t want that panel rack in his front yard – originally it was supposed to go up on top of the dome but that’s never going to happen – but in its present location it only gets good sun in the morning and that’s just no longer good enough. So that’s my big project for early summer.

Meanwhile, I’ll be running his pressure pump with my Honda, and I’ll have all the hot water I want. No more sweating whether the power system will keep running till I’m done with my shower.

Three weeks ago I installed the new MPPT charge controller that Big Brother sent me, and while I can’t say it had a revolutionary effect on my electrical power, I will definitely say that it had a much bigger effect than I expected it to. Like, I should have looked at the change years ago.

Case in point: at 10 ayem this morning…

This…

And this…

…do not go together. Yeah – batteries fully charged and in Float at ten o’clock on a moderately cloudy morning. That’s not even supposed to happen. This was the sort of morning when I would normally question the wisdom of firing up the kitchen oven for bread baking – but this time the question barely entered my mind. I don’t see any particular difference on bright sunny days but any time conditions are less than ideal the difference is striking.

Now: My original plan was to wire the older solar panels up on the Lair’s roof to the new controller but Neighbor S, who knows more about these things than I do, reminded me why that’s a bad idea. That would be equivalent to putting two different ratings of solar panels on the same rack, something you’re not supposed to do because the larger panels will overwhelm the smaller ones and basically make it as though the smaller ones aren’t even doing anything for reasons I don’t really follow. Anyway, I had forgotten that you’re not supposed to do that. So – since the price of MPPT controllers has come way down without me noticing and since I have something resembling an income now without such nuisances as rent and regular utility bills, I’m going to get a second one as soon as practical.

“I hate it that you do this!”

I have to be careful how I yell at my computer, because…

…Tobie’s right there. He’s smart, but not so smart he can always tell when I’m yelling at the ‘pooter and not at him. Especially since I rather frequently use the same tone and verbiage on him. 🙂 That’s his “Whatever this is about, I didn’t do it” face.

Any time I start messing with water bottles before leaving Tobie goes to his bed and doesn’t give me a problem, because he knows those are never “let’s go for a Jeep ride” Jeep rides. But other times are up for grabs: I’ve been going to S&L’s every morning this week and Tobie always meets me at the door for that with his whole butt wagging.

But early this afternoon I had to go to town on the bike to do some business, and while I was getting ready he never even hinted at a desire to come with. I kind of wondered why, because whenever I go outside he at least indicates a willingness if that’s the way the wind is blowing. And while I was gone, a possible reason occurred to me…

If I’m going to town, I usually swap my belt gear around. If I’m going somewhere inside the Gulch, a ride he’s usually welcome to tag along on, I never do. I wonder if he picked up on that clue, and I just never noticed before today. 🙂

Long-time blog readers probably know that I like cats. I would have at least one cat but don’t because … I dunno, maybe the Lair just isn’t big enough but they insist on going outdoors, especially at night, and most cats can’t get it through their heads that they aren’t at the top of the food chain here. So after I lost my last kitten Zoe I swore off cats. Anyway, I do have to admit that none of my cats were good for much. There’s nothing inside the Lair likely to attract mice, but all my cats went out and then brought mice inside to play with and/or eat. Can’t say it was my favorite part of being a cat-lover.

My neighbors S&L have one, though, that’s not only likely to last but that also makes herself useful!

Unlike me they built a big rambling house that the cat seems content to stay inside, with lots of quiet places for mice to hide from the world.

But they can’t hide from Kiki. She’s not an eater, though: After the kill she carefully places the corpse right where humans are certain to find it, for disposal and commendation.

Lately it seems to happen at least once every time I play pet-sitter for them, which I’m doing this week.

Also need to see to the chickens…

This is nice because they’re all freshly done with their annual moult, and they’re laying nice fresh eggs again. Which I get to take home while S&L are gone.

Something new this year…

Last year they put in a nice big greenhouse but they didn’t have any success with it because it got too hot in there. This year they lined the ceiling with groundcloth and they’re planning bigger circulation fans so we’ll see how it works. But I need to remember to water their seedlings.

On the way home I stopped at Ian’s Cave to hang out my wash, that I’d put in the machine during the Morning Walkie..

And I was not surprised to find that my oldest pair of knockaround pants have gone to the Great Rag Bag in the Sky.

My green BDUs always die the same way, in the same place. And patches are only temporary. As when Younger Joel wore bluejeans everywhere, it’s one of the inevitable sadnesses of life.

At least now it isn’t a big financial crisis like it was for most of the time I lived here.

Long ago I grew quite superstitious about the DMV. Back when I was Mr. Suburban Man it appeared impossible for me to get anything DMV-related done in a single try. Turns out it still is.

One of the things Big Brother likes to do whenever he comes to visit is help me deal with administrative stuff, knowing that it’s not exactly my strongest thing. This past week I had two things of that nature on my mind: Actually only one, the second thing was his idea. For almost three years I’ve had the title to the Jeep in my possession but it’s still in the previous owner’s name, because the closest DMV office is in the big town about 50 miles away and logistically it’s just too much to ask of a neighbor to let me tag along on a shopping visit and add that place to the trip. So I wanted to get that title transferred while I had BB as chauffeur and hand-holder. Started to look pretty good, too, until the very end. Turns out that since the “official” address on my state ID is in one of the cities in the Valley far far away, and since those cities require an emission test before any motor vehicle can change hands, I had to get an emission test for the Jeep before the DMV would transfer the title to my name. DMV TRIP: FAIL.

So now there’s an additional step involved: I need a new ID with a plausible local address. BB and I were talking about this to a neighbor who happens to be the POA prez, and he said that the parcel I live on actually does have an address that you can put on an ID card. He opened up his tablet, tapped away for a minute, and told me what it is. I wrote it down, and now next time I work up the nerve to ask somebody to take me to the DMV I can get that done. Then the NEXT time I work up the nerve to ask somebody to take me to the DMV, I can transfer the title. Doubt I can do both things on a single trip, but who knows. Certainly I don’t.

The second administrative thing, which I actually did accomplish, was BB’s idea. I’d given up on ever getting a bank account in the crappy little town nearest where I live because both times I tried, at both the local bank and the local credit union, I got a rather rude brush-off. This time he and I walked into the bank, got smilingly ushered into chairs, and the bank lady couldn’t have been nicer. Not sure what the difference between my first try and this one was: Maybe BB just has a better “this guy would be a good depositor” face than I do. Anyway, got that done. Have to go back this coming week and add my daughter as beneficiary: I didn’t have her contact info with me at the time.

Now I just have to research how to install it. Can’t be too hard, I’ve seen these in the yards of people a lot less handy than me.

Then I have to scrounge at least one bucket full of gravel.

It’s been a very unusual week. Big Brother has been here four times over the years but I have an older brother that I haven’t seen in something like 30 years and they both came to visit. So I wasn’t spending a lot of time in front of the ‘pooter.

And now it’s time for the weekly water run to town, so I gotta go. I’ll catch up later, I promise.

Okay, I went to the prosthetist office yesterday and got my socket adjusted. It’s not perfect yet but I was right about the problem being a matter of adjustment. I still have the same problem but it’s much moderated. I was able to walk all around the property today getting work done without being in agony, and fiddling with the padding helps. So I’m not done with adjustments but we’re on the right track.