May. May? May. Jaysis.
Anybody prepared for May? Don’t look at me, Skeezix. Sure, there’s this whole spring fever/summer vacation vibe in the air. And I’ve had a double armful of Kindly Old Doc Pfizer’s Gen-U-Wine Bug Blaster.
But I can’t say I’m champing at the bit to embrace Society again.
Maybe I’m going to be like one of those Japanese soldiers who stayed bunkered up for a couple-three decades after World War II ended. Those dudes maintained focus.
“War’s over? Says who? The Emperor? Yeah, right. Keep digging, Shimada.”
Mad Blog Media 
20 years under a rock. My father-in-law had to hide out from the Japanese during the war as he was Indian, i.e., Commonwealth. But that was only until Mac “returned” and liberated the Phillipines.
Scary thought to hide out forever but I read about some of those Imperial troops who never flicked it in.
I keep a mask with me on my bike rides in case I run into people or into a problem requiring me to run into people, but it is liberating to not feel like I am incurring the Gov’s wrath when riding out in the boonies with my smiling face hanging out. I few people gave me stink-eye on Friday, apparently not getting Gov. Michelle’s message.
Yeah, I don’t think I have the stamina for 20 years under a rock. I might have to liberate myself before then.
The maskless were the majority on today’s hourlong trail stroll. Herself and I both had masks at the ready as need arose, just ’cause. Otherwise we had our faces hanging out in the breeze like everyone else.
Met two strangers to us, our friend’s cousin and partner, inside last night sans mask and with hand shakes. All of us were vaccinated, but, again, it felt strange. I think the country is on the edge of herd immunity, but we ain’t quite there. Stupid people and virus variants keep getting in the way.
It’ll feel strange for a while, don’t you think? I don’t remember the last time I shook anyone’s hand. One of the little boogers from next door blindsided me with a hug a while back and I didn’t know how to respond. Her parents got vaccinated before we did, and now we are a week past shot No. 2 with one more to go before we’re considered “fully immunized.”
Their dad invited me over the other day to inspect their ongoing kitchen remodel. We were both masked, and everyone else was out of the house. Holy hell, remind me never to remodel the kitchen. Tomorrow is the start of their second week without a functional food-preparation area. As per usual, unforeseen circumstances arose as the work commenced.
I’m tellin’ ya. Van. River. That’s the ticket.
Of course, you can’t find the van or the river these days. Sigh.
I like how they call something a river in New Mexico when the only thing flowing is sand.
When we lived in Tucson many years ago, the locals held a tongue-in-cheek Rillito Regatta in the dry Rillito River arroyo/stream bed. Back in the days when Arizona was being “settled”, the Rillito was a terrific source of water. It hasn’t been for many decades/generations now.
Pat O’B can likely further enlighten us.
I have only seen water in the Rillito during significant monsoon storms. We haven’t had that in years. One of the local TV stations used to have a “ice break” contest for the Santa Cruz river. To win you had to guess the date and time that Tucson would have the first 100 degree day for that year. To give you and idea of where we are at here in Cochise County, the rainfall to date in 2021 is 1.5 inches. Normal would be 6 inches. Last year we had 6.5 inches total. Fourteen inches is normal. Right now we are having wind gusts to 45mph with a relative humidity of 4%. One spark in the wrong place and shit will hit the proverbial fan.
If we were smart we’d apply for some feddle-gummint money to take the suckers for mountain-bike tours down what used to be the Rio Grande, from Taos to Elephant Butte. I can see the T-shirt now: “Ride the Rio,” with some knobby type hucking over a dead trout.
Hey, there is actually a trickle of water in the Santa Fe River by our house. I’m actually quite surprised as we are in seriously deep shit for precipitation up here too.
But I like the idea. Along with a “Wade Lake Mead” event this summer? I wouldn’t be surprised to see that hit dead pool in a few years.
Let’s just say that in a couple-three years you won’t have to be Jeebus to moonwalk Lake Merde.
I wonder when they are going to start finding the concrete blocks in the drying Lake Mead mud. You know, the ones that held the feet of those who irritated the Vegas dark side.
“Hey, check out these Florsheims. Say hello to the remains of Vinny ‘The Trey’ Scumbaggi.”
I remodeled our kitchen when we moved into the shack we have now. I made it so that after each day’s spot of work, I would carry the old kitchen sink cabinet with sink into the initially gutted kitchen, and hook it up to the water tap. It would take me about 5 minutes. That way we’d have water available in the kitchen. I had the appliances in the dining room so cooking was not a problem. It worked out well and 14 or so years later, the kitchen still looks prettyy good. A recommendation for those who want to keep their kitchen clean: Remodel it yourself. After all the hard work you do you really don’t want to see things getting dirty.
I am entirely incompetent in such matters, as I am in most things. The dumbest kid in shop class. The only thing I have ever made successfully is trouble, usually for myself.
I was outside rip cutting a thin section of base cabinet filler one fine day. It was a piece of hickory to be used in a short section between the Lazy Susan (she works her ass off in our kitchen), and a dual drawer pot cabinet. As I whistled to the tune of Boston’s “Don’t Stop Believing” so that I wouldn’t forget that a finger can disappear quickly around a rapidly spinning blade, the resultant thin section of hickory that I was cutting experienced an exorbitant amount of shear force and quickly disappeared to the rear of me when I completed my cut. “No problem” said I, I’ll just pick it up after I turn off the saw. Or so I thought as I turned around to locate the filler stick. Hmm? Perhaps it went a little farther than I thought. A scan of the walkway produced no resultant stick; a scan of the front yard was unsuccessful; Hmm? Perhaps up by the Juniper bushes? Nope not there either. “Wow, Did it just disappear?” A little more head scratching and my brain started wondering if this was one of those “Holy shit, it did that?” kind of moments. So I began to follow a straight line backward from the saw. Across the lawn, through the juniper bushes and over the little brick wall, across the street, into the gravel and up toward the corral fence of “Woody”, our neighbor’s wonder horse. There, roughly a hundred feet away from the saw was my stick. It has been ejected from the saw, sailed across the walk and lawn, remained airborne enough to pass through the gap in the Juniper bushes and clear the short brick wall below them, and then careen across the roadway and make a visit to an appropriately named horse – “Hickory, meet Woody”. Fortunately the filler stick weathered it’s reentry and crash down reasonably well. It happily resides betwixt* the cabinets to this day.
*I watched Kenneth Branagh’s Henry V last night.
2nd Lt. Hiroo Onada (God rest his soul) would fit right in with GOP. There is no defeat – only cheat, and Cyber NinJas will reveal it all eventually. Oh my.
They’re more like Uncle Joe Stalin with his “Ni shagu nazad” (Not one step back). Charlie Pierce refers to this line a lot when discussing the Red Hats.