The Ultimate Answer to Kings

I have three old shirts that get the most wear in the hottest part of the desert summer. They’re all old green Dickie workshirts, worn thin, with the sleeves cut off – they got a little too small in the chest and I wear them mostly unbuttoned just to keep the sun off my shoulders. Three of them is barely enough for the laundry rotation, since obviously I sweat a lot outdoors. Indoors too, TBH.

Last week I suddenly found that I had two old green workshirts. It’s a small cabin, there really aren’t a lot of places to lose something the size of a shirt but I looked in them all. Finally decided the only thing that could have happened was it getting blown off the clothesline, in which case it had to be somewhere in the brush and rocks downwind of Ian’s place.

Took me a while – one of the things I like about these shirts is the green blends real well with juniper without obviously being camouflage…

Found it! Good as – well, not new…

A neighbor texted me, asked me to come over, and when I did he handed me a pistol case and asked if I could evaluate it and tell him what’s wrong. He’d only put a few rounds through it and was already deep in buyer’s remorse.

I’m not exactly the world’s greatest expert on the current gun market and told him straight up that I’d never heard of this brand.

A very little research told me it’s a California company, and this model was introduced about 15 years ago. I found some Youtube videos, all about nine years old, all glowing, most of them obvious shills. The only negative they agreed on was that the trigger sucks. Which it really does. But they all claimed the gun – a very low-cost Glock clone – was generally reliable.

Yeah, not this one.

In four magazines, mostly with Fiocchi 124 grain FMJ, my best practice ammo, call it 56 rounds, the gun jammed approximately 50 times. Mostly just failure to go into battery, which is a common new-cheap-gun problem that can be corrected by a thumb on the back of the slide. But some – several, like twice per magazine – really concerning failures to extract. The first problem will usually fix itself if you want to spend more money on ammo than the gun originally retailed for. The second? Kiss of death, as far as I know.

And all this dumbass graffiti…

To paraphrase a character in an old movie, ‘a man who would carry a gun like that would wear flowers to a preacher’s funeral.’

I really can’t believe Front Sight thought slapping their name all over this lemon was a smart thing to do.

This is right up there with ‘I don’t have to be faster than the bear, I just have to be faster than you.”

It’s what the Jeep’s tailgate latch connects to. It’s been broken for years but recently gave up the ghost to the point where the gate is tied shut with 550 cord. I don’t know what it’s called and I’m having a terrible time finding one to buy online.

I live near a town where “the internet is down” is an actual phrase. One that hasn’t been used for a few years but it does happen and when it does it demonstrates the danger of excessive reliance on a single technology. The whole town’s commerce comes to a near complete halt.

The last time this happened was three years ago and it was a doozy. This one lasted something less than a full day but it did coincide exactly with me trying to post something. Workmen have been laying orange conduit all through the whole town since Spring and I can hope that has something to do with better/faster/more reliable internet service but I really don’t know and anyway doubt it will affect me. My service remains entirely tied to an ephone hotspot – which still works remarkably better than the old satellite dish, and is substantially faster since I got a signal booster a couple of years ago. But still – when the ‘internet is down,’ I’m back to smoke signals.

That’s all I wanted to say.

At least once every day Tobie gets very excited at the windows and comes to get me. It’s usually to demand that I go chase cattle out of the yard. He is resolved – reluctantly – that he’s never going to be allowed to do it himself but he still insists that cattle in the yard constitutes a threat to the private peace and if he can’t do it, I must. Seriously, he won’t settle down till I drop what I’m doing and go chase a cow or group of cows away, calves in tow. Which I’m happy to do because while things are hardened to the point where they seldom do any property damage anymore they do very messily shit all over the place.

So anyway: this morning I’m baking bread and Tobie gets that rushing between the windows/rushing to me thing going. I look around outside and can’t see a single cow in sight, not even in the distance. But I gradually hear a dog barking. It’s too far away for there to be any hope of seeing anything so I go back to my bread dough. But it gets louder. And closer. And it’s a strange mixture: On the one hand it’s barking incessantly the way dogs sometimes do but every now and then it stops and yipyipyips exactly like a coyote. It’ll be twenty years late next year, and all the time I’ve lived here I’ve never heard a coyote bark but that yipping is pure coyote. This goes on for half an hour or more before the noise stops: it gets closer but I never see anything when I look.

It makes me wonder because several times over the past couple of months Neighbor L has told me that a “coyote pup” keeps coming into her yard and drinking water in their greywater ditch, which is not a very coyote-like thing to do. The coyotes here are leery of humans, whom they (correctly) see as a threat to their lives. This ain’t Massachusetts: mess with the pets or the chickens and you get kilt right quick. Which is why, here in the Coyote capital of the planet, we get along together real well. When I moved here there was still a bounty on them and you NEVER saw a coyote when you were on foot. That was a long time ago and they’re less leery but they’re still usually quite polite.

But like I say, it makes me wonder if we don’t have a hybrid running around. Needless to say coydogs aren’t at all uncommon and they do better in the wild than dog/dogs do but I don’t know if they’d be welcome in a wild pack. Would explain why L’s “coyote pup” is always by itself.

My generator has been hanging out in the cool of Ian’s powershed since I dragged it there in the Spring to run his pressure pump – which has since completely failed, complicating the shower situation. I needed it today, though, because of an impending infrastructure improvement…

I bought these batteries almost exactly six years ago, which means they’re right on track to die – and die is exactly what they’re doing. In fact I think a cell or two are already dead, because they’ve begun boiling under charge and going through a *lot* of distilled water. No way they’ll last through winter, and I already have transport provisionally lined up to replace them. I discussed with Neighbor S the possibility of upgrading to lithium, an idea he shot down because my powershed is unheated. FLA batteries will work in below-zero temperatures, lithium batteries will not. Or so he tells me, and I accept his word as coming from a lot more experience than I have. He did say, though, that with my recent solar panel and charge controller improvements I should be able to up the size of my battery bank from four to six, which will reduce the discharge cycles and very likely result in batteries that outlive me. So that’s what I’m going to do. And that started the usual cascade of ‘first I gottas.’ Among which, first I gotta have a bigger table. Which means I need my power saw. Which means I need my generator. Which means I gotta go get it from Ian’s place. Which means I gotta find out how much physically weaker I am than I was six months ago before I got sick with whatever I’ve been sick with. Which means…

Wheels. A wonderful invention. I didn’t expect to have any use for this new-ish wagon until winter when I start hauling propane bottles more often. Turns out it works just as well for portable generators that aren’t quite as portable as they were a few years ago.

S&L are traveling so Tobie and I went to take care of their chickens and cat…

And on the way home we ran into someone unusual.

I don’t know what breed of bull this is. The others are all Angus, and when I caught sight of this one I thought at first it was an unusually big cow. But no, it’s a breed bull. Rather more skittish than the Angus bulls are: It really wanted to keep its distance from the Jeep.

So far this summer I’m getting bulls in my yard frequently but they’re not giving me a hard time about moving on when I want them to. They’re just not in a hurry about it. Tobie and I ran into this one up where I used to park Ian’s tractor.

And he wasn’t afraid of me, or of Tobie. He just mosied, keeping his distance but eating as he went.

Tobie acted more like he wanted to make a new friend than like he wanted to chase. With the cows and calves, he definitely wants to chase.

When I first started shooting the Arex going on sixteen months ago I complained that the ejection pattern was all over the place. Since it isn’t a gas-operated gun I didn’t expect that to settle down at all but for reasons passing my poor understanding it really has.

Not exactly a single neat pile but at least I’m not looking for brass at all points of the compass anymore. Not that it matters that much: Being a boomer I always collect my brass but I now have thousands of 9mm cases there’s very little chance I’ll ever actually load.

Now and then it strikes me, when I’m changing pants…

…I carry a hell of a lot of shit on my belt and in my pockets. I use all of it, too, from time to time.

Look what I found yesterday!

For various reasons I haven’t been to the Palace of Food – well, for all of this year, actually, and I was getting worried about my supply of my current favorite coffee brand. But look what showed up at the local market! At a comically ruinous price, but it did show up.

Finally…

The Jeep’s shotgun seat has been a ruin of foam shards for years and years. Quite some time ago Terrapod sent me a seat cover which lasted for a while but gradually fell victim to Tobie and the Jeep’s resident rat(s). Then just last week a neighbor was actually planning to throw away these perfectly nice covers! So the Jeep’s interior can look a little nicer for a little while. The driver’s seat didn’t really require one: That replacement seat MM sent (mumblemumble) years ago is holding up quite well though the seams have acquired some Gorilla Tape. But I figured I may as well complete the set. For the record, Tobie was not in favor of the improvement. “My seat doesn’t smell like my ass anymore!” or implied words to that effect.

I haven’t felt well for the past few months, and my outdoor activities have pared down to necessities. Except lately I’ve been feeling better – I’m eating again, though I’m still trying to get into the habit of doing it regularly – and I’m trying to get my hand back in with pistol shooting among other things. Which is why…

…it’s really nice to live in a place where I can have my very own pistol range, right next to the driveway.

That’s all I wanted to say about that.

I pruned the living hell out of the pear tree late last year, and remembered to put the anti-cow fencing back up just in time this year so the tree has resisted the persistent cattle invasions of my yard.

I don’t remember when I planted this tree. My memory says it was like 2014 but it was a gift from Ian and he planted his grove in 2011 so that seems more likely. It went so many years without producing a single piece of fruit that I long assumed it never would – until one year it did, and now there have been two fruitful years including last year. But it’s always feast or famine, it’s never…

…one single pear. On the whole tree. That never happened before.

Yeah, I got complacent. Happens every time. I got a rat nest on top of my engine and from that point it’s a mere matter of time before one of the little bastards bites through a fuel injector wire.And the Jeep suddenly has a five-cylinder engine. Happily, since this is the THIRD TIME IT’S HAPPENED, it was pretty damned easy to diagnose. Looking back in the archive, it’s actually been a while. Last time Generous Reader Terrapod sent me a whole package of fuel injector connectors and I promised I’d store them very carefully so I could do it again next time with less hassle.

And I did. Fifteen minutes in the sun, fixed. Thanks, man.

This happened Saturday. I rode my ebike into town and it was such an unusually beautiful day I decided not to head straight back home. If you toured this town the first thing you’d notice is that there clearly are no HOA karens anywhere: The choices people have made over time concerning their homes are – highly individual. You’ve got crappy falling-down house trailers that were old when I was in diapers right across the street from prefab pseudo-McMansions. Crumbling adobe piles next to beautifully kept lawns. It’s all so entertaining that it can be – distracting.

This is primarily a Mormon town, and Saturday was some special holiday or something, I don’t know what but I know there was a big parade down the main drag. And when I was biking along there were family picnics going on in yards. Which made what happened rather more public than I would have chosen.

I was riding along, looking at the unique scenery when I came upon a semi-major road without paying enough attention. I was looking right, the truck was coming from the left – and I hit the brakes hard enough to take the rear wheel right off the pavement. The one thing I have against my ebike is that it’s bigger than I am: Getting my feet on the ground can be an issue. So the bike stopped but it got ahead of me: I struggled for control, and then just gave in to the inevitable and fell right over. Half of me over the bike, half under. The half with the fake leg, which came right off.

Now there’s this old beardo in green cargo pants sitting on the road, a clearly empty pantleg flapping while I dig my leg out from under the bike. I’ve got an open shortsleeve work shirt acting as a gun burka but it wasn’t covering much at the moment.

The guy in the truck stops, gets out and runs over apologizing like it’s all his fault. I asked him what he was apologizing for: I was the dimwit who wasn’t watching what I was doing. He had clear right of way. I’m pulling my leg back on, he’s acting like it’s the worst thing that ever happened, all concerned because I got a little road rash on one elbow. I said I’ve had much worse.

Meanwhile, across the road, there’s this big front yard picnic going on and I just provided the entertainment. A big bearded guy walks over, crosses the road and wants to make sure I’m all right. I’m fine, no injury or damage to anything but my pride but people find it upsetting when my left leg just spontaneously pops off for some reason.

They really are the nicest people. I like it here. But I really do need to pay more attention to where I’m going when there’s a chance of traffic. That’s not real common where I actually live.

…that’s been around for a long time, and he’s prone to sleeping an awful lot, and he doesn’t want to chase sticks anymore, but he’s still cheerful and he isn’t sick – until one day he just stops eating for no apparent reason? Well, that’s kind of what I feel like.

It started with some sort of crud I caught, nothing serious, just ick. But then I stopped eating. I mean I completely lost any semblance of an appetite and didn’t notice until that was starting to make me sick. And also the dehydration because this is summer in the desert and you have to be disciplined about how much water you drink and I really wasn’t being that. And it was kind of a spiral, made worse because I’ve been an ‘eat when I’m hungry/drink when I’m dry’ sort for going on 30 years so there was no schedule-related mental muscle memory to prompt me to eat and that’s what I’m working on now.

I’m not actually sick. My neighbors, all of whom are older than I am, have diagnosed my condition as – let me look up the correct spelling here – “Getting Old.” Anyway, you may have noticed that that same sudden ailment has also affected my interest in keeping in touch with people and for that I apologize. I keep meaning to sit down and type this, it’ll only take a minute – and it always ends up with ‘mañana.’ Don’t feel picked on, I’ve also been ghosting my neighbors. Hey, nobody becomes a hermit in the desert because of his great social skills, right?

And for the umpteenth time, for those of you about to say “get thee to a doctor,” no. That way lies pills, and side-effects from pills, and pills to battle the side-effects, and pills to battle the side-effects of the combinations of pills, leading inexorably to death by doctor and that’s not the way I’m going. There’s nothing specifically wrong with me. I just need to learn better habits. And stop spending so much time sitting when I ought to be walking and doing useful stuff.

Anyway I really will try to stay in touch. I’m not ditching the blog or anything, I just need to get back into the habit. thanks for all the concern, really.

What’s really pissing me off is that I can’t drink anymore. Whiskey – the water of life! – tastes terrible to me now. That right there might end up killing me.

One of the things I got away from when I switched from a .44 to a 9mm. It was so nice not to clutter my belt with ammo. But lately poor Tobie has barked himself ragged trying to scare cattle out of the yard from the windows, and when that – invariably – fails I have to go outside, shout, wave my arms like a madman, and eventually start shooting into the ground to get a frickin’ herd of frickin’ cattle moving. This is easy though annoying when it’s cows with calves but yesterday morning I woke to not a herd but to a single bull standing around and shitting in my yard and they don’t scare.

Pro-tip: Angus breed bulls are not afraid of you.

Years ago I charged at them with my home-made spear and that actually worked because – I speculate – they mistook it for a cattle prod. But I stopped doing that when faced with the fact that one of these days a bull was going to call my bluff and that spear shaft is just a cheap paint pole that absolutely would snap if I ever really had to put it between myself and an angry bull and I’d die looking like an idiot. So now I do it with only the pistol, which I confess is not really an improvement because bulls aren’t impressed by the noise of gunfire. I should look into getting a better spear.

Anyway: That latest incident cost me like half a magazine’s worth of ammo, and if it were anything but FMJ practice ammo that would have been tragic. So I’ve fallen into the bad habit of carrying the gun with the FMJ mag in it which makes me uncomfortable, so I’m back to a second magazine on my belt while walking around outside just in case I need real ammo at some point.

In other news…

I took my first bike ride to town in (I think) over a month yesterday, without feeling like I’d fought Persians while running a marathon, and then completed the repair of that scrounged wagon. So I guess I’m on the mend from whatever’s had me down. Still not eating much, though. My pants are getting loose in the waist, which is kind of a welcome trend reversal.

I’ve had infrastructure problems and transport troubles for most of this year, and one thing I’ve wanted to do has had to hang fire since some time in April.

I replaced my main charge controller almost exactly three months ago, and the improvement was so palpable that I vowed to immediately go that route for the rooftop panels as well. They are and always have been on separate controllers for redundancy.

Also, when I set up the ground mount nine years ago those panels had a circuit breaker which has occasionally proven very useful. The roof panels, which went up in 2012, never did and sometimes it’s been an annoyance. So when I bought this second smaller controller I also got a little circuit breaker. So next time I have to take the circuit apart, no arky sparky. I hate the arky sparky.

It’s summer, so it’s hot. So far there’s almost no sign of monsoon, though we do get windy bits that might eventually add up to a weather change.

Tobie and I are walking again. For a while it was very minimal. I don’t know what my problem was but I stopped eating – and when you stop eating you don’t have any energy.

The cattle don’t have any problem with energy. Or eating. Or finding my favorite trails and shitting all over them. I hate cattle.

A couple of weeks ago I somehow ended up at the Walmart in the biggish town about 50 miles away.

I get a kick out of the compromise the store came up with. For the longest time there was a no-guns policy but most people ignored it. Around here, anyway, they sort of split the difference.

Keep your damn guns if you must, just cover them up so we don’t have to put up with all the komplaining karens, okay?

Anyway: Like I said I’d stopped eating so I used the opportunity of a Walmart to get some more savory food than I usually eat in hopes of stirring up my appetite. Among which…

This is the second piece of real cow other than hamburger I’ve had in something like 20 years. I tried some beef a few months ago from the local market and, in addition to the price, the quality was really off-putting. This, though, was worthy.

It took me like 3 days to work up the ambition to do it justice, and even then I ended up having it for breakfast. So honest-to-goodness steak and eggs. And it was gooood. The first food I’d enjoyed eating in over a month.

Tobie kept me company. In case I fainted or something.

Of course he got a taste.

And he approved.

And I promptly got the scoots, and didn’t dare get far from a toilet for half the rest of the day. Still worth it.

I haven’t been working on many projects but my scrounging game is still strong.

Can you believe somebody wanted to get rid of this? I really could have used it back when I was doing a lot of building but it’ll still be useful. The older I get, the heavier propane bottles get. Of course it was being thrown away for a reason…

But that’s a fixable reason. In fact it’s effectively fixed. I got two new tires and tubes and they’re already on so the wagon has four tires that will hold pressure. But I still need two more and they’re on the way. Then it’ll be good as new.

So that’s all that’s been going on. Except we buried another neighbor yesterday.

It happens. Not everybody can be in excellent health and spirits like me.