The Ultimate Answer to Kings

By Spring I generally have a veritable stack of empty propane bottles. In ordinary times I don’t worry about topping them off till Autumn, but these show signs of not being ordinary times.

One of my big kitchen bottles was empty and that one had to go to town anyway so Neighbor D and I loaded it and three 30-pounders into his pickup, lifting heavy things a lot and significantly lightening my wallet. But not as significantly as feared: I was pleasantly surprised to find that, like last June, propane hasn’t really tracked the rise in gasoline cost. It’s up, certainly, but not very much. Worked out to $2.90/gal before sales tax. So that’s out of the way. I have turned the bedroom heater off for the season, so that bleeding has stopped.

I have all these ideas for great landscape photos, and the equipment to at least half-assedly do it if only I knew what I was doing. But … winter happened. In winter Uncle Joel sits. And landscape photography takes a lot of physical effort, and Uncle Joel is an old (68 this month! Which is substantially older than I expected to get, so I should have taken better care of myself) painful-jointed one-legged guy.

Anyway: Insert customary excuses here. One photo I’ve wanted to take for years but just didn’t have the stuff was a portrait of my very favorite thing, the Secret Lair. I’ve tried it before, but since the Lair faces due North the light is rarely on my side. The only time the front of the Lair is ever really lit is on an early summer morning. We’re at least in Spring, so this morning I decided to give it a try. Click the thumbnails for bigger photos.

Enter impediments…

The only place from which the photo can be taken is at the top of that hill. It’s not very high, but there are no nice easy slopes. Above the talus it’s basically rock climbing, this time with a large camera case and tripod. Continue reading →

Sometime late last year Ian offered me an embarrassingly large amount of money monthly to keep up on repairs to his place. Much of what he wanted done was stuff I was doing anyway, since his place is useful to me and I don’t want it falling apart. We settled on a much smaller stipend with the agreement that I would not only continue to note and report the deterioration of his infrastructure but get more proactive about maintaining it on my own.

I noticed a few days ago that one of the piers holding up Ian’s porch/ramada/thingie has come loose from the dirt.

This is not an unusual event around here: Some of our early construction efforts were, um, not entirely adequate and in particular the dirt around here is not conducive to holding up concrete things unless you go deeper than we often went. So anyway: I have experience with this sort of thing. I thought I was going to need that 8′ 4X4 from his powershed, but it’s too long.

Fortunately there was a shorter one handy: Once on top of some blocks and my scissor jack, that’ll be perfect. I have everything I need except some concrete, which I can hopefully buy on Monday. I’ll cut rebar this afternoon and get everything ready for work on Tuesday, weather permitting.

If you’re wondering about the peculiar construction, this was the original idea…

…but we could never get anything to survive in the two planters we installed, so the project stalled there.

I cleaned out my butter keeper making breakfast, so while coming back from some early chores I stopped at Ian’s and got another stick from the fridge. Came home, left it on the counter to soften.

Beautiful morning: Went outside to clear some of those weeds left over from last year’s very wet summer. Was outside maybe half an hour.

Came inside. Among other things…where’s the butter?

Looked over at Tobie. Hm.

He swore it wasn’t true. Not believing him, I played Bad Cop and searched his bed and toy stash for incriminating torn wrapper. No evidence found.

Time passed. Tobie didn’t look like he felt so good. I sat in the reading chair, sitting and reading, when Tobie got up and loudly and copiously relieved himself of an inner burden.

He stood staring at it regretfully as I brought the garbage can and paper towel roll. “No, you can’t have it back,” I said gently. No point getting mad at him.

Yup. Here was his breakfast kibble and the wrapper from a quarter-pound stick, all in a sauce of very thoroughly softened butter.

My fault, really. Should have put it up on the shelf.

Just because I haven’t got anything to say…

I’ve rarely played a video game in my life and don’t know anything about Fallout, so virtually all the references go right over my pate. Waking up to this video was … just a little surreal. Coffee! Quick! Or maybe Nuka-Cola.

I have an old pressure cooker that, as you can see, I haven’t used in quite a long time.

I intended to buy some copper tubing and a compression fitting at the hardware store during yesterday’s water run: Imagine my shock when the only hardware store in the crappy little town nearest where I live didn’t carry any copper tubing. I came home quite disgruntled but not entirely out of business: In the absence of the right tubing, I’d try it with the wrong tubing.

I’m not an idiot: I completely expected it to fail. But I really do need that distilled water. Continue reading →

I put this off all month, hoping that distilled water would re-appear on store shelves. But it’s nearing battery day, clearly time to give it a try.

The praxis is simple enough: Boil water in a stock pot. Float a Pyrex bowl in the middle of the water, which mustn’t be so deep that a full bowl will sink in the pot.

Place the lid upside-down on the pot. Put an ice bag or freeze pack on the lid to encourage condensation. Wait. Continue reading →

Late in 2020 we finished a thing that made Ian’s Cave a very useful and happy place, even though it looks less and less likely that anyone will ever live there.

It happened so gradually, in such a choppy, punctuated manner, that I found myself spending time this morning trying to remember exactly when it was finished and useable. It started in June 2020 when a bunch of very expensive plumbers expensively dug a vault behind the cave, into which they expensively poured expensive hardware needed to raise Ian’s water pressure to expensive (and damaging, in the short run) levels never expensively seen before. They went away without actually getting the pump running, because they’re incompetent boobs, but happily I have access to a neighbor with more knowledge of how electrical circuits work than I – or the expensive plumbers – do. Then Landlady began a series of visits to install a water softener and in-line water heater, which did not go well at first.

It wasn’t till November 2020 that we tiled the shower and it officially became open for business. Trouble is, Ian’s cave isn’t heated and by December it was cold enough that I really didn’t feel like going there to get naked and wet anymore. So I didn’t use the thing till early last summer, and then we had the Great Water Leak of 2021, which flooded the powershed and forced me to disconnect power to the water pump for quite a while, and…

Well. Like most of our more ambitious projects, it’s been one thing after another. I’ve really grown to distrust big ambitious projects. But still, while it works, hot showers!

And I’ve gone so many years without hot showers that the presence of a functioning shower within walking distance of the Lair is something I still regard with wonder and appreciation. And in the past few days, the temperature inside Ian’s Cave has reluctantly risen past the point where the old man can use it again without hypothermia. And that’s a part of Spring I’d really like to grow used to – except that I truly don’t trust it to last.

What a lovely day! It’s March, so this won’t last…

Just three or four days ago it was too cold and blustery for the old man to want to spend any real time outdoors, but now I barely want to come inside.

Last month Ian cleared out his powershed of accumulated junk and left a bunch of old plywood scraps and such to be gotten rid of, so this morning Tobie and I spent an hour over there cutting it up and disposing of it in Ian’s burn barrel. Then after lunch I did some more yard cleanup, fixed the handrail on the porch stairs which had worked loose for some reason…

Then cast a meaningful eye on those three pallets leaning against the Lair…

Tobie was keeping me company…

…and I told him to cover his ears because so far he’s not crazy about being around power saws but my cool vintage Sawzall that BB gave me doesn’t make that much noise. And I already know that, unlike my table or circular saws, the Sawzall runs just fine on house current.

Unfortunately, Tobie didn’t have anything to worry about because my pallet-chopping chore didn’t last two minutes. The blade suddenly detached from the shaft and left me staring stupidly at the uselessly whirring saw…

Because the … I don’t know what it’s called but now I need a new one … broke right in half and left me stranded.

The pinchy thing. That holds the blade on old-style saws. I needs one – and apparently a spare, once I find a source.

ETA: Clamp! Of course that’s what it’s called. Found one on ebay, upon which I have never shopped, but that was just the first reference that came up. Doubt I’ll have a problem.

ETAA: Okay, they’re right on Amazon. Not surprising, must be a commonly-needed part. Surprisingly expensive for such a little thing, but not outside my price range.

A beautiful warm spring day, without damaging wind for once! I couldn’t wait to get outside.

The pear tree is just beginning to bud. So I pulled away its protective fence, cleaned up around it and gave it a light pruning.

Last summer was very wet, which caused the weeds in my normally dirt-paved yard to go nuts. I let them flourish because I like the flowers, expecting the snow to beat them down over the winter. But the winter was very dry. So …

…I’ve got a mess…

Which I’ll gradually be cleaning up over the next few weeks.

Lately I’ve accumulated some scrap that needs to be turned into firewood. In past years I’ve let it pile up in a woodlot and then did it all in one big spasm in the autumn – but all my tools are down at the cabin now and in past years doing all that work all at once has sometimes caused me back problems. So I figured that since it’s only three pallets and some old furniture, I’d just do it in Spring at the cabin.

And I intended to pull my nice Honda generator out of mothballs – but the problem with the generator is that I go months between uses so every time I unmothball it I then have to remothball it. So this afternoon I decided to see what would happen if I tried to use my table saw, previously stored elsewhere, on the Lair’s power.

I took that old bed apart, resulting in this much old lumber…

…and then I set up the saw and started whacking it into stove lengths. I got this far…

…before the electrical system packed up, which didn’t come as a great surprise. Normally when this happens I’ve pulled the battery voltage down below the inverter’s shutoff value, which can happen even on a bright sunny day. But this time…

…my inverter gave me a scare. I stepped inside briefly and looked at the voltage readout, and it seemed surprisingly high. Then when I tried to restart the inverter, it was in no hurry to cooperate. Apparently I didn’t hit its low voltage cutoff, I overheated it. Eventually it did restart and everything seems fine, but clearly I need to make a practice of pairing the power saws with the generator whether I want to or not.

BTW you might notice that I have not one but two identical inverters on the powershed wall: That’s an interesting story. 🙂 Two is one, one is none, especially when they’re free. I haven’t needed the second one for going on seven years now, but for a minute this afternoon I was afraid I might have to see if it still works.

This has been a really great month for “constitutional” carry.

All through my childhood and young manhood, getting caught carrying a handgun was either a guaranteed trip to meet the judge or depended on (whether you knew) the cop, variable on the location and sometimes seemingly on the day. I used to be really paranoid about printing – how I would have envied you kids with your micro 9mm you can buy at any gun shop.

And less than 20 years ago when people talked about spreading “Vermont carry,” I laughed. Dream on, I said, it’ll totally go the other way. Pro tip: Never never count on one of Joel’s political predictions coming true. Happily, that includes the pessimistic ones – and in the current climate, that’s the closest thing to an encouraging word I can find.

Presenting, for your viewing pleasure, the most awesome commercial ever shot.

I think maybe the game Fetch is burned into the genes of certain dogs. I went to considerable lengths to discourage it, knowing full well I can’t keep up with Tobie’s energy. But he has independently invented a version that only requires me to kick his toy. My role is to attempt to kick it past him while he plays goalie. When I score, he briefly punishes the toy for collaborating with the enemy before bringing it back and depositing it neatly for another kick.

He presents me with this game pretty much any time I’m in the kitchen corner. If I’m really busy I refuse to play, but if – as in this case – I’m just making a cup of tea, I figure why not. He seems to get a lot of pleasure from it, and it’s certain he could use more exercise than he’s been getting from me.

That little fake Kong wheel originally had a chew rope through it. I got it at the dollar store and while the rope didn’t last long at all the tire’s durability has surprised me. He’s had it almost all the time he’s been here and it’s easily his favorite toy.

Funny how different they can be. Little Bear, Ghost and Torso Boy didn’t understand the concept of toys at all. Tobie completely gets it.

“Today I’m huddling in my coat cursing March.”

It rained and snowed all morning. Look at my nice shiny floor! Look at it!

If you ever design your own house, find a way to include a mud room.

The weather didn’t change the fact that it’s water day. I brought Tobie home a new toy from the dollar store…

I wasn’t really planning to give it to him, just put it up in the pantry as a spare. No chewing rope has a long projected lifespan around Tobie the puppy-shaped beartrap, and I thought a spare might be wise. But he saw what came out of the bag, politely waited for me to cut off the tag, and then took it from me without further discussion. And now he’s having fun testing its fitness for life.

Meanwhile – speaking of Tobie – I have replaced my dear departed summer sandals.

So I’m ready for the warm now. Really. Enough with the winter already.

Same rather complicated recipe right out of JoC, published in the olden days when books were made from reconstituted trees. This time followed more carefully than the first try – which was also tasty, so whatever.

A little overcooked, should have checked it like 5 minutes earlier. Also the egg wash got away from me: Never did that before. Still…

Delish. I could get good at this if I put some effort into it.

I could also weigh 200 pounds, so maybe there’s really such a thing as too much effort.

Weather has turned cool and very windy but sunny, perfect day for baking. I finish up and put the loaf on a rack to cool…

…go sit in my reading chair, for to sit and read…

…and almost immediately recognize my tactical error. I can’t see the counter from the chair, and Tobie knows it.

I look up. Tobie is nowhere to be seen.

“Tobie!”

There’s a muffled thud, as Tobie hits all four and hurries back into view.

“I was just sniffing.”

What a beautiful day!

By nine it was already in the fifties and clearly going to get warmer still. Not much wind. And last night I learned that a package I’d been waiting for with some anticipation was waiting. So…

I went to town without D&L for the first time this season.

See my pretty new summer boots?

This bothered my inner skinflint because I could probably have gone another season on my old ones. They were getting pretty worn, but seven or eight years ago replacing these in this state would have been unthinkable.

If you spend a lot of time outdoors in the boonies you already know that you need to stay well-shod no matter what else you scrimp on. I got lucky with these, bought them in the big city that month I spent there in summer 2019. And they’ve been great, but…

The soles have gone really smooth. Slick, even. October 2016 I took a fall when my slick-soled boot went out from under me on a slope, and that shoulder has never been the same since. So much as I love those boots, I no longer trust them.

Still, good new boots always make me feel very self-indulgent.

I just got schooled by the Adaptive Curmudgeon, who posted some cautionary words about using your smartphone for snapshots.

Last fall a Generous Reader sent me a couple of DSLRs, which are capable of feats in excess of most of my needs. I’ve been trying to get into the habit of using the smaller one, but frankly it’s easier to use the smartphone for everyday snapshots unless I need a better lens. And sometimes (often) when my AirDrop won’t connect I’ll move innocuous photos to the cloud drive so I can get them on the laptop for the blog.

I admit, boomer that I am, that before today I didn’t know that my phone was automatically sending EVERYTHING to the cloud whether I told it to or not. I just looked and found 1000 photos there. Deleted them, then deleted them again from “deleted photos.” Which might mean anything or nothing. If nothing, I hope NSA analysts aren’t easily bored.

I picture a whole bunch of people shaking their collective head and muttering “Duh. Thought you were a privacy freak.” Hey, I’m an old guy. If I had a VCR its clock would probably flash 12.

Incentive to use the SLR more, that’s for damned sure.

Last week during the Monday water run I noticed that the price of low octane gasoline had crossed $4. So yesterday I emptied my two remaining gas jugs into the Jeep and brought them to town to refill. I had a sort of bet with Neighbor D about whether the price would be sharply higher this week. I won, it had risen exactly 20 cents/gal.

So filling those three 5-gal jugs cost me $3.00 more yesterday than it would have a week earlier. Not exactly hyperinflation, but pretty impressive regular inflation. I’d shake my fist and blame Putin as instructed by the government if this hadn’t been going on for a year.

Then as I was reflecting on that happy note, two of the jugs fell over while we were on the final bouncy bit toward home. One of the caps blew off. I smelled gasoline from the back seat of D&L’s pickup. Normally that’s just irritating; yesterday it was expensively irritating. Made this funnier when I saw it last night, though…

Still a little cold for bike riding but I took my first ride of the season this morning. Just a little over a mile and up a steep grade in high-assist to get a better notion of the state of the battery. The extremely imprecise charge indicator said it was full but I knew that wasn’t so. Give it enough battery load from the motor and it might drop two full bars – better to learn that close to home than halfway to town.

When I got home, having been gone longer than anticipated, I gave Tobie much praise and treats…

…because he was a GOOD BOY! Had I expected to be away from the cabin as long as I was, I’d have taken several precautions that have become routine. Instead I stepped out for a moment and then kind of wandered from one thing to another and was gone for over an hour, which could have led to all manner of calamity had Tobie been in one of his moods.

He’s older now, I don’t know how old but surely well over a year, and some of his more obnoxious puppy traits are fading. Sporadically. So like the little girl with the little curl, when he’s good he’s very very good. But when he’s bad he can be HORRID. And his continuing growth has led to an actual serious problem:

During last week’s trip to town he learned that he could stretch to my egg stash on the far edge of the counter. And yeah, he helped himself. Rather neatly and moderately, actually: he could have made a horrible mess but instead just stole a couple of eggs.

But in his favor, the chewing thing has moderated almost to nothing. He has ceased to steal my leather gloves, and hasn’t actually destroyed anything in weeks.

The temperature at night is getting less severe. I’m going through less morning firewood…

…and normally this time of year I stop buying propane entirely, letting the empties pile up till next autumn. This season I’ve been debating whether that’s wise. Last June I did something uncharacteristically smart, inflation-wise, and I think it’s probably smart to assume that fuel prices will continue to climb. I need a propane run anyway…

…because this morning one of the kitchen propane bottles showed empty and I think I’m going to take that as a sign that filling all the empties makes sense while I’ve got enough cash in my pocket to do it. Who knows what October will bring?

Things are quiet around the Gulch, just the way I like them, so that’s about all that’s going on. I’m really still in winter sit-and-read mode, though gradually getting more active as the afternoons get warm rather than ‘not as cold.’

I am not making up this headline…

On Top of Everything Else, Nuclear War Would Be a Climate Problem

It’s The Atlantic, so picture a not-especially-bright person trying to educate you at great length and in condescending tones about something you already know. The text of the article distills down to ‘A-bombs are bad.’ Read it if you wish, I just thought the title was funny.

h/t