vituperation

I thought one of you had said you weren’t supposed to feed the pigs meat? (regarding feeding the whacked mole to the pigs)

Yep, we both did, but I need to clarify. Pig are vulnerable to the prions that cause Bovine Spongiform Encepholopathy, aka “mad cow diesease.” If a pig (or cow, for that matter) is fed meat from an infected animal, the pig can get infected too. So, our real rule is “no meat from the commercial meat factories for the pigs,” and not so general as “no meat at all.” Thus, the pigs got the whacked mole and all the chicks that pipped but didn’t hatch, as well as any birds the cats may kill and not eat.

To save yourself a lot of time and effort why not buy enough soaker hoses for each row?

I’m probably going to buy more of them (especially after yesterday, more on that in a bit), but at $14 per pop, I’m too cheap to go buy all I need at once.

Are you going to grow cantaloupe, cucumbers, watermelon?

Just cucumbers, of which I’ve picked three so far. I like cantaloupe and watermelon, but they’re too hard to keep weeded and I don’t like them enough to go to great lengths (supports, pantyhose hammocks, etc) for them.

Why’d you name her Charlie? And what do you need FORTY NINE chickens for?

While watching her flap-gimp across the chicken yard, of us (who is not named Fred) jokingly called her “Charlie Crip” — we are not terribly politically correct here at Crooked Acres when we’re alone, or when Nance is here being a bad influence — and the name Charlie stuck.

Forty-nine chickens = 23 for eating + 25 layers + 1 asshole rooster. Watching the toddlers grow, though, we may keep some of them as layers because they’re so pretty. Witness:

Mostly black, but with a big hint of McLovin’s Ameraucana roots showing through

 

Right now, we’re discussing a rotation of sorts, of eating the older ones (ie, the girls and McLovin, except Frick) and letting the toddler girls take their place. We haven’t decided for sure.

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When The Phantom Menace came out years ago, countless people claimed that George Lucas raped their childhood memories of Star Wars. I laughed at those people because really, who takes movies that seriously?

Then I went to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Thursday and I understood how they felt.

(memo to readers of my wife: had I known about the vine thing, I would NOT have insisted we go see the movie. I have very definite limits to my suspension of disbelief)

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Because I went to a special event for work Thursday, I got the day off (without having to take leave, woot!). I decided to take advantage of the situation and take Friday off, too. Following is a recounting of Friday, my day of rest and relaxation.

5:07 am

I sat up in bed, swung my legs over the side, and stood up. Correction: tried to stand up. I lurched into the window on rubbery legs, my quads and ass in so much pain it overwhelmed the pain in my feet. On Thursday, I’d had occasion to be up in Monte Sano State Park, so I took the opportunity to hike over to the Natural Well and back.

As it turns out, choosing the second most difficult trail on the mountain is not the smartest thing to do when you haven’t hiked for two years.

I was embarrassed when it happened, and I’m embarrassed to recount it now, but I had to STOP AND REST on the way back up the McKay Hollow trail. Four times. The last time I stopped to rest I was mildly concerned that I’d have to call someone to come get me, but sitting on a rock until my heart rate and breathing were completely normal gave me enough energy to make it all the way to the top, where I hobbled to my car to collapse.

I can remember being able to almost jog up that trail, and it makes me sad that I had so much trouble with it.

Now, on Friday, I was paying the price in soreness. My feet were no more sore than usual, because I’d taken an anti-inflammatory in advance, but most all of the rest of me hurt, especially my quads and glutes. It’s a wonder I made it downstairs without falling.

 

5:15 am

Let the chickens out, feed the pigs. Go back inside to nurse some coffee in front of the computer.

 

7:25 am

Out to the garden to pick for the morning. The squash is starting to go nicely now, and I got a good amount of it (enough for two meals, plus a couple of bags diced and frozen). Also got three more eggplants and two pickling cucumbers. Then it was time for the green beans.

When I was trying to decide on what kind of green beans to plant this year, because we didn’t like the Kentucky Wonder pole beans and Contender bush beans all that much last year (too stringy), a friend suggested Rattlesnakes. I remembered the pretty purple-striped beans from my grandparents’ house, and decided to plant those.

“How much did you plant?” my friend asked, back in April when I told him I planted the Rattlesnakes.

“A row,” I said.

“A whole row?”

“Yeah, why?”

But he just laughed. Yesterday morning, I found out why.

The way our land lays, the garden has a very slight downward slope from east to west, no more than 6-12 inches over a 75-foot span. Because of that, the plants on the western side tend to grow better because water runs to that end. The green beans are a good example of this, because only the first 12 feet or so have started producing. I picked that 12 feet or so on Wednesday, and got enough for dinner that night and Thursday. I picked that same 12 feet again yesterday morning, some 38 hours later.

Here’s what I got from that 12 feet of green beans those two times:

Note there are a few squash underneath on the right, it’s not ALL beans. Just most.
Sugarbutt included for size reference

 

I’m starting to understand why my friend laughed when I told him I planted 75 feet.

 

7:50 am

Off to Tractor Supply for a couple of nuts and bolts —

Little Pig has taken to rolling in the mud wallow when it gets hot, then climbing into the water tub for a nice snooze. Because I’m getting tired of replacing the shit-smelling water twice a day, I decided to bolt a piece of wood across the top of the tub. That way, they can get their heads in to drink, but the two halves are too small for Little Pig to get into.

— a latch hook to keep my bedroom door closed, and a play ball for the pigs to replace the one they humped to death.

On the way to Tractor Supply I stopped for gas, where the old man at the next pump informed me that:

• It costs $145 to fill his truck now
• His truck can get all the way to Tunica, MS and back (that’s 429 miles!) with a quarter of a tank left
• He just went to Tunica last weekend and won $3600 on the slots, so he guesses the price of gas was worth it

 

8:18 am

Out to the garden, where I began the day’s assault on weeds. I spent the next four hours alternately weeding, watering, and wandering around the property doing little things. Wandering, because it was time to weed the onions, my least favorite task because I have to do it on hands and knees and there were so many weeds it was hard to see the onions. I ended up pulling five onions by mistake.

While watering, I managed to break one of the soaker hoses. It just pulled in half, probably at one of the places it tends to perpetually kink. Probably if I weren’t moving them around so much, things like this wouldn’t happen.

 

1:00 pm

Started mowing the lawn, after I put the lawnmower blade back on that came off the last time I finished mowing.

 

1:07 pm

Stopped mowing the lawn because the blade fell off the mower.

 

1:14 pm

Resumed mowing the lawn.

 

1:29 pm

Stopped mowing the lawn, because the blade came off again.

 

1:33 pm

Called the local mower repair man, whom I have on speed dial. I don’t know if it’s me or Troy-bilt, but goddamn, I have some mower problems. The lawnmower man told me he was visiting a friend just a few doors down from us and that he’d stop by on his way home.

 

1:45 pm

I was out in the pig yard, refilling the water tub after bolting some wood across the top (and, truth be told, talking smack at Little Pig), when the lawnmower man showed up.

I explained the situation to him, how I’d replaced the blades last week when I was mowing, because I bent yet another one. How I’d bought the fancy expensive blades because they were flatter and thicker, and thus less prone to bend. Only now, I explained, one of the blades wouldn’t stay on (and it wasn’t on upside-down this time).

He had me drive the mower onto his trailer and he left with it, unsure of when he’d bring it back. He thought there might be a stripped spindle that needed replacing.

 

1:57 pm

The bathroom fan slipped out of my hand and clattered on the folding chair holding my bedroom door closed. I was on my way up to knock out a couple of inside chores since I couldn’t cut the grass. First, I planned to install a latch hook on my bedroom door. The cats like to go into my room and sleep on the bed, and occasionally someone pees on it. Most likely, this is because Tubby peed on the mattress a lot when he developed diabetes, and they can smell it. That mattress cost $2000, so I’ll be damned if I’m getting rid of it even if Tubby did pee it up all those years ago.

My bedroom door is weird. Because the house is crooked, it won’t close properly. In the winter, when everything’s contracted, it wedges shut tightly, but in the heat of summer the swelling means the door no longer touches that part of the frame. For the last couple of weeks, I’ve had a folding chair set against the door when I’m not in the bedroom (there’s a latch hook inside for when I sleep, to keep cats out).

The second chore I planned to do while upstairs was replace the fan in Robyn’s bathroom with a quieter one, because the current one sounded like a jet. This is how I came to be dropping a bathroom fan on a folding chair in the upstairs hallway of our house.

At the sound, the TV below fell silent.

“You okay?” Robyn called.

“Yeah, I just dropped something.”

I got the hook installed and took the folding chair into the bathroom, where I stood with one foot on the tub and one in the chair to take the old fan out. The fan upgrade is pretty simple, actually. The fans snap into a fitting, and there’s a little plug right up there in the mounting spot. You can do the fan upgrade without needing tools or anything.

The old fan popped right out and I set it aside. The new fan didn’t snap right in like it should have, though. It just slid in and hung there. It seemed a little loose, but not so much that it would fall out or anything, so I put the cover on and climbed down. A flick of the wall switch showed me that everything worked right, so I shut it off and picked up the folding chair.

That’s when the fan fell out of the ceiling, pointy end down, and cracked me on the skull so hard I saw stars.

It went on to crash into the sink, while I reeled around the bathroom spraying blood. I waited for Robyn to call up to see if I was okay, but all was silent below.

Back onto the chair, and back into the ceiling went the fan. This time, I bent the edges of the housing a little so the fan snapped into place.

 

2:47 pm

On the way down the stairs, I noticed the lawnmower man’s truck in the driveway. He couldn’t find anything wrong with the spindle, so he used his impact wrench to tighten the hell out of the blades.

 

3:04 pm

Back to mowing the lawn.

 

4:00 pm

I stopped mowing the lawn to light the grill, keeping a wary eye on an approaching ugly cloud.

 

4:20 pm

I finished my mowing for the day and put the riding mower up. By now, there was thunder in the distance and the occasional flicker of lightning. I decided I’d better get the meat on the grill to try and beat the rain.

 

4:47 pm

The sky started spitting marble-sized drops of rain while I snatched burgers up. I decided to leave the London Broil on for a few more minutes since it wasn’t raining too hard.

 

4:51 pm

The skies opened up, and I raced outside to get the steak. On the way back to the house, lightning struck so close to me I heard it pop. The sound was like a flashbulb or a lightbulb when it goes out. A split second later the thunder followed, loud enough to make my ears ring.

 

5:00 pm

We ate dinner in the dark because there was no power. The steak tasted like lighter fluid.

 

5:15 pm

“Jesus, Joe Bob, did you have to do that?” I asked.

Joe Bob did not reply, he just sat there in the stink looking somewhat pleased with himself.

 

5:20 pm

After the smell hadn’t gone away for five minutes, I checked the litter box to see if there was some uncovered poo. There wasn’t.

 

5:30 pm

Robyn and I went round and round the laundry room, trying to find the source of the rank smell. To me, it smelled like raw sewage. To Robyn, it smelled like old laundry left in the washer for too long.

 

5:33 pm

Fearful that the smell had something to do with the new septic tank we just had installed, I went out into the (now light) rain to sniff under the house. I thought maybe something was backing up under there. Nothing.

Nor was there any smell around on the other side of the house where the septic tank is.

 

5:45 pm

I spent a half hour pulling out the dryer and cleaning behind it, searching for the source of the smell. It seemed to be strongest in the dryer itself, though there was nothing in it that stunk. I disconnected the outlet hose, thinking maybe something had died in it, but it was empty.

 

5:53 pm

Robyn informed me that the new fan wasn’t working, that it just hummed when it got power.

 

5:54 pm

I vacuumed the downstairs.

 

6:10 pm

Robyn and I went to the dollar store to buy some taffy for the pigs, because they like it and it’s funny to watch them chew it. The cashier looked at my shirt and started laughing, then proceeded to point it out to everyone in the store, which was pretty humiliating because it’s a shirt I vowed never to wear in public and didn’t realize I had on.

It says, “Don’t pretend you don’t want some of this.”

When we got home from the dollar store, the mysterious smell was gone.

 

6:18 pm

The pigs enjoyed the taffy.

 

8:14 pm

We paused The Bucket List to go outside and shut the chicken coops for the night. Out there, I discovered the storm had given me a present for this morning:

 

 

 

 

(pictures from this morning)

 

9:45 pm

Off to bed, to sleep a few hours so I can start the whole process over again.

It poured all night.

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Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go fire up a chainsaw.

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This may be the greatest video I have ever found.