Well, I don’t know about you, but we had a pretty good Friday the 13th yesterday.
We got a spot of rain, but not during my bike ride. We weren’t grounded in some airport, awaiting intelligence (har de har har) from Markwayne BillyBob and Sean Doofus. And at long last national embarrassment Lauren Boebert finally lost her job — in a district practically tailor-made for her — to retired Rear Adm. Eileen Laubacher, who holed Boebert’s party boat below the waterline and (it is to be hoped) sent her to the political equivalent of Davy Jones’s Locker.
Also, Herself, who has a a side hustle as a reseller of this and that, disposed of an item for a friend at a scandalous price and the friend couldn’t be happier.
So, winning, etc., et al., and so on and so forth.
I made soup, and Herself made cornbread, so we were sitting in the fabled catbird seat watching “The Lowdown” as our two new crape myrtles got a little agua free-a from on high. Hit it, Jonathan. …
We have two crape myrtles in the yard. Pretty trouble-free, but a little slow growing. They are really popular here, especially in commercial landscaping. Andy got stuck in San Fran yesterday because of the FAA system problems. Must be Biden’s fault. He can’t fly home until 0730 tomorrow. At least he scored a hotel room.
We have a Chinese pistache that likewise is billed as slow-growing, but man, when it took off, it really got busy.
Herself has been wanting the crape myrtles for a while now. We see them all over the place; supposed to be hardy, not particularly thirsty, and very easy on the eyes.
The roses we had back there just got nuked by this last dry, hot summer. Funny thing is, just before the tree dudes replaced them with the crape myrtles, they sprang back to life. Felt kinda bad about 86ing them, but it was just gonna happen again next summer.
Bummer about Andy. But, as places to be stuck go, could be worse. Omaha? Salt Lake City? DIA?
Newark, Midway, BWI, and Salt Lake City come to mind.