…is that a visit from the two actual property-holders, Landlady and Ian, is more likely than not to bring horrid weather where before there were clear skies and fair temps. Over the past couple of months their visits have set that rule on its ear: Things are gorgeous until moments after I say farewell to their taillights, and then the clouds sock in and there’s rain. And more rain. We’ve been promised a late-monsoon storm for almost a week and it held off until I’d about decided it was mythical. Then Landlady and Ian went home, and so came the clouds and rain. Nothing apocalyptic, just enough to keep me grumping indoors. Senseless gusts of wind that keep things scattered around the yard where I had thought them neatly stacked. And of course pollen and wild swings in humidity which keep Uncle Joel lurching for the tissue box or the pocket where he keeps the scary bandanna. Probably in another couple of weeks things will settle down and we’ll get a month of cool autumn, and then we’ll find out what winter has to offer.
This weekend’s visit brought a couple of thoughtful care packages. I’m often struck by just how timely these can be. A kind reader who shares my odd number of feet promised a box of spare prosthetic parts including…
It’s a prop from the first Terminator movie!
Now how often does that happen? Unfortunately it won’t fit my leg, which is a damn shame because it arrived just a few days after my existing foot started doing scary things and needed some field-expedient tweaking. But the box had a bunch of other useful things including some prosthetic supplies I really can use. Socks and sheaths are always welcome, if nothing else. (Private to generous donor: The boots were a full size too big, but happened to fit Ian exactly right. And his desert boots were getting positively comical, so they will absolutely not go to waste.)
And more!
Meaty Goodies!
LB says thanks.
Also, last week during my paying gig I finally blew out my favorite work gloves. These are among the things like a flashlight, earplugs and a clean bandanna that just naturally go in my trouser pockets every morning, and their death is always a tragedy like unto burying a good dog: You know they won’t last forever, but when the day comes there is mourning. Good gloves cost good bux, and *sigh* where is that coming from? To my delight, what should I find inside the box but…
New Gloves! Even the right type and size!
They’ll be blood-spattered, scarred and sweat-soaked in no time, I assure you.
I got a rustling care package as well, and the enclosed Andrew solved a problem that had also popped up just a day or two before…
Several years ago Landlady gave me a gift of a cool indoor-outdoor digital thermometer which turned out to be one of those things I didn’t know I needed until I had one. For quite some time it has been an integral part of a low-tech journal I keep, mostly to remind me when to do recurring maintenance chores but also to keep track of morning temps and egg production. But all good things come to an end, and the outdoor sensor had become unreliable and finally stopped working entirely. I really wasn’t prepared to go without it, and a cheaper version was available at the local hardware but where was that unscheduled $20 gonna come from? Popped into my lap within a couple of days, actually, and so now I have a new cool indoor-outdoor digital thermometer. Since the main part of the old thermometer still works fine, I’m moving it into the chicken coop for the winter.
Care packages from readers have pulled my nuts out of the fire on quite a number of occasions now. My regular shit-shoveling income, augmented by irregular paying gigs, covers my bare needs but I do use my gear and things wear out. I just want you to know it’s appreciated.
Those gloves are still good, just need some Duck Tape.