Close Meditations of a Visual Kind

Nigh on 13 years ago or so, Herself's brother Pasomthing brought out to teh Ranch two China Spots and a Yorkshire which he called Corky, and Corky a gift to his sister. In a scene which would prove prophetic, he plopped all three young hogs (a sow and two boars) into the same paddock as the goats, which amused the goats not one whit. It took a bit before even a corner of that paddock could be fenced off. It took a bit longer to get started on building individual pens for the hogs, and in fact involved the China Spot boar (called Dale, short name and as a namesake for one of Pasomething's favourite NASCAR drivers...) killing Corky.

Which is only incidental to the remainder of this story. Killing Corky, that is. Not the building of pens and fences.
( Life on a Karst Formation, got a bit wordy not too bad... )

Pulling in to teh Ranch yesterday on the way home from both work and Voting, I paused for a couple reasons. One of them involved a stupid goat who stuck her head through the fence to browse on something and couldn't get back through because of her horns. This is her second strike, meaning the next time she does this, she'll wait in the fence for me to come back with a 60cm stretch of Schedule 40 PVC tube and some duct tape. That will provide a headdress which prevents stupid goat heads from fitting through the fence. The other reason I stopped (only helped that Stupid Goat was close to this), and this leads to doing a reprise on this post, is that I saw Miss Peggy's sign had changed.

Readers will recall that Miss Peggy, an exemplar of a Southern Lady, objected to someone taking something off her property (that so you might not need to follow that link, and re-read the previous post). Now, in that post I'd left out specific candidate names, partly because it didn't seem the more important part of the story, partly because it was pre-election and I wasn't about to be part of casting particular aspersions. Truly, nor did Miss Peggy.

Political sign vandalism is not something new this go-round, I'm sure.

Day before the election, Miss Peggy got home from work (she drives a school bus for County, here) to find a note, anonymous, along with a sign at her gate. I am going to mention candidate names in this part of the story, because now it becomes an important part of the overall tale. The sign on the gate was an Obama/Biden sign. The note said (not an exact quote):

I'm sorry your sign was taken. I don't think that's right. I'm a McCain supporter, and I want you to know not all McCain supporters are thieves. That's why I got you a new sign.

So Miss Peggy put up her new sign in place, and changed the one she'd made to replace the old on, on both sides of it inbound and outbound on our road a single word.

Thanks.

And, night before the election somebody came along and stole the Obama/Biden sign. Again. By mid-day on election day, Miss Peggy found another sign and anonymous note on her gate.

I'm getting downright pissed at whoever is taking your sign. Here, I got you another one. McCain Supporter.

It was that new one I spotted coming in.

Herself tells me, though, that this isn't the be-all and end of it. Out at the end of our road, where it intersects with County Highway, someone put up on the electric pole across the road two more signs. I didn't read them on the way out though I did see them, large white pieces of poster-board. Couldn't read the writing in headlights because, well, headlights don't aim that high.

Sign #1: Why do you think McCain Supporters stole your sign.
Sign #2: Maybe the goats ate it.

Sign #2 is an injustice perpetrated on goats. No, goats will not eat 'anything'. Yes, goats will taste anything, but they do not particularly care to eat plastic, which is what those signs are made of nowadays.

Besides, I think Houdini had something to say on this too. Or maybe it was Smudge.

Herself did the feed run yesterday, she told me when I called to check in that I left Hospital. As it turned out we passed each other in Archer. Twice. I saw Forrest NissanPickup at the feed store as I went past. I stopped at the Post Awful to check the box, and she was in our road, stopped and unloading the horse feed when I pulled onto teh Ranch. So no feed run today. Houdini was disappointed.

Instead, after making morning rounds, we loaded up Forrest NissanPickup with a lot of paper and plastic for recycling and a bit of the trash ready to go, and headed off to the County Dump did Houdini and I. Trash cost us $1.50, recycling is free. I swear Houdini gets quite concerned when we're there. Probably because that's also where the County Animal Control Shelter is. I reassure him he is coming home with me.

We ran into Archer to check the Post Awful after the Dump, because Popper Aussie Ot-tar said he expected a package. It arrived. All the ot-tarz are over in Studio 318 just now and I don't want to know what's happening. So I'm continuing to clear out the Home Office in the Big House, preparation for moving Herself's workstation in here from the other room.

He was 11 months when we bought the place, just a year when we moved onto it, and at that age his shoulders already came up to mid-thigh on me. One day soon after, while we worked on some things he explored nearby (in the area which is now, in fact, Squrrl's spot) and set up the Alert! Alert! bark while bouncing about in the brush. I went and checked it out and he'd spotted A Rock That Moves, which is not normal, you know. I explained that it was a young gopher tortoise (about 7 inches long), and that it was OK, it belonged here. He sat back away from it (so it would calm down), and watched it start walking away, followed it over to where it had a burrow. Often, later on, he'd check out the other burrows about the place, now knowing What Lived There. Sometimes we would see Gopher moving along from one burrow to another, and snuffle at them before leaving them to go their way. And life was Good.

Long about four-five years later, during the nice balmy months when we can leave doors and windows open, Herself heard an odd muffled bark at the front door. Wormf! Wormf! She went to the door & there was Kuma, with something in his mouth. Somewhat concerned that he'd bitten something and it got stuck, she checked him out and he gently, gently placed into her hand a very fresh-hatched baby gopher tortoise, about 1.5 - 2 inches long. She praised him, turned around to grab an empty planter to put the baby tortoise into, and when she turned back Kuma was gone.

Back again in about 10 minutes. Wormf! Wormf! She went out to him, and he again gently, gently placed into her hand a very fresh-hatched baby gopher tortoise, about 1.5 - 2 inches long. And immediately took off around the corner of the house. Back again in about 10 minutes and gently placed into her hand another very fresh-hatched baby gopher tortoise, about 1.5 - 2 inches long. Off immediately around the corner of the house.

This went on for 15 baby tortoises.

And Herself assured Kuma he was a good dog, while calling Baja Jorja Fish and Wildlife and told them she had these baby tortoises to hand in. Yes, she knew they are endangered, that's why she called F&W. Yes, she could meet the F&W agent in Archer in 10 minutes. She brought Kuma along with her, because she knew the agent would want to know how she acquired this many endangered baby tortoises. She told him the story, with Kuma standing over the (now in a cardboard box) clutch of baby tortoises, wagging his wee stump of a tail so fast and hard he couldn't hardly stay upright, because he knew he had saved these Baby Rocks that Move.

Mr. Agent said, 'If I hadn't of seen this dog, I'm not sure I'd of believed it.'



This story is dedicated to St. slave2tehtink of the Terrapins.

After getting fairly to very good connections on teh Ranch's Old, Rural, North Central Baja Jorja phone network dial-up the past couple of days, today we are crawling at the somewhat more common 26.4 Kbps. It figures. This speed makes surfing the web a rather boring thing, actually, and would certainly not suffice for anyone with serious ADHD. So not much for the morning, I'm sure. Maybe again later.

Dinner last night was good, a nice visit with S&K as well as a couple other neighbors I don't see often. S, who is a blacksmith no he does not shoe horses he's not a farrier, is making a display stand for an acquaintences broomhandle Mauser. For reasons which will become apparent soon, this really tickled me. For those who may care, it's a Spanish copy of the 7.63 mm version of the C96. The broomhandle name came along because the original wooden stock would fit onto the grip to extend the piece and help with aiming; either that or because the wooden grip looks like a broom handle. Not sure totally, and it just isn't terribly important to me just now.

Most everyone has seen them different times, different movies. One features in the first Indiana Jones movie, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Harrison Ford carried one with cosmetic modifications as Han Solo's blaster in the Star Wars films.

With such a slow connection, it's fairly easy to stop perusing the 'Net and head off to make morning Ranch rounds. Perhaps later. We'll see.

Procrastination can be an art form, but like all art forms individual works must eventually be completed. I've heard from some that art pieces are never completed, per se, just brought to a point when the artist decides, I'm done, and turns them loose. So it's time to turn loose on a particular procrastination project.

Quite a few years ago, we purchased a pre-build 'garage' (not really a garage), 12' by 24' building, which when delivered we set in the shade of the oaks which comprise what we call Kumamori on the Ranch. Herself uses this building as Carmenetta's Cottage, and primarily for sewing. It's been wired, partially insulated, partially panelled, and in need of finishing for some time.

Several months ago, I put in a time off request for this week to go to a conference on Nursing Informatics out in Denver, hosted by AORN. After reviewing the overall economy a bit before heading out to Vegas for FredCon, we decided perhaps the trip to Denver wasn't in the book (keeping) after all. I did not, however, inform Hospital that the time off was available for them.

So this week we are completing the insulation and ceiling panelling of Carmenetta's Cottage. As of yesterday we are 2/3's done. That, following sending Herself off to run errands she needed done for the Levy County Fair (upcoming in a few weeks), me and the Bros making Ranch rounds and feeding the critters, and then Mamma Mudge and I making a feed run. Following errands on all parts we ate lunch, started some laundry, then started the insulation project.

The insulation itself we purchased last year; well, possibly early this year. At any rate, it's been in the Cottage waiting to have its dimensionality re-arranged and placed between studs and rafters. It's not a difficult thing to do, putting in fibreglass insulation; it can be an itchy thing to do. However, individual parts move along quite easily.

Today we figure to finish placing all the insulation (there's only 10 more batts to place for the roof/ceiling), then cutting the panels and start putting them up. I want them all cut by early afternoon, as there is rain in the forecast. We can put them up while it's raining, after all that's inside work. I shall want to make the sawdust outdoors, though.

With the ceiling done, there remains only the west wall; Herself is planning on starting that while I'm cutting the panels. The two end walls when done will both be paneled with cedar chipboard; the east wall already is. Against that entire 12' length of east wall we mounted Kitchenmade wire shelving; that's Herself's fabric storage. Hmm, lessee, six shelves, 12' long by 18" deep... you do the math. *G*

The west wall will require a bit more work, as I'll need to do some framing; it will be a cedar closet for completed garments. For those of you who do or have played in the SCA, this is a big part of what Herself puts together in the Cottage. Some is for herself, other pieces she's made on commission, and a good deal of what's made is by others, receiving sewing lesons. So the doors to the closet will be a set of sliding mirror doors.

But getting that insulation and the panelling done is the primary concern. The west wall is sort of insulated as is, what with all that clothing hanging on a closet rod there. The roof/ceiling mostly was not, and summertime could be quite warm in there. Even with the shade from the oaks of Kumamori and a window unit A/C rated for the square footage. We're thinking about getting a second of those units, for another (of the four) windows. Our theory is two will need to work half as much to keep the place cool.

Meanwhile, Houdini is happy because BossStaysHomeDays started early. Boss is happy because I'm keeping the cook happy; well, and getting to spend time with Houdini and his Bros, too. Herself is happy because we can already feel the difference walking in (and not merely because temperatures are already dropping overall; we're still hitting high 80's F/low 30's C daytime). Plus, the insulation work requires us to move things around, and moving those things around will eventually require Herself to break down the initial work station. She wants to re-vamp the layout after working in there for those aforementioned several years.

'Works fine when I'm working solo,' she says, 'but when I'm teaching, we need a better layout for everyone's machines.' I'm not sure about the everyone's. I mean, I think two people she's taught over the years brought their own machines with them. The rest used one of her several. In fact, I've even got a ocuple sewing machines. Only one is out in the Cottage though.

Long Term Readers will recall from a couple years back a bit of fiction writing here involving my Border Collie Brothers, the annual Otters convention known as Buddha-Con, and the church on the next piece of property. Don't worry if you've missed it, you can catch up on my parts (and others) in that lunacy by jumping through my Memories or Archive or whatever LJ is calling it these days, looking for Buddha-Con 2004 or 2005 or some such... it will be the earliest Buddha-Con entry there.

This, however, is not related to that, other than it discusses the church next door, as it were. It doesn't look like a church from the outside. It's (at least to me) a fairly small congregation, and it's not from one of the major denominations. Most of the work they did to the building, they did inside. Usually twice during the summer months (early, and late) and again during the winter months, the congregation would host revivals and one could hear them singing and such from near a half-mile away. This usually constituted the most noticible activity there, other than their gathering each Sunday.

For the past two years though, they've not been seen much at all; not on Sundays nor for their annual get-togethers. I've occasionally chuckled to myself quietly over the coincidence of the story-telling and the actuality. But as the story-telling is just that, bits of interactive fiction, there truly is not relationship than coincidence.

Last night, the structure experienced a fire.

The Bros were sounding off through the night, and both Herself and I went out on several occasions to see what might be setting them off; there were (are) a couple young bovines from our next door neighbor's who've found a hole in the fence and decided the grass is greener on our side. That probably constitutes at least one such alarm. Herself says she saw what looked to her at the time like heat lightning in that direction on a couple of walk-abouts. Now she's not so sure. And just as she headed back into the house after her 04:00 walk, she heard approaching siren and heavy truck noise, didn't go investigate, and thought it could of been one of the mobile ICU's which are what we call ambulances these days.

Turns out the Williston Fire Department was still on site this morning about 08:00 when our next-door neighbor drove by. She called us, to give us the news. We didn't leap out to go investigate. Early afternoon when I headed over to Williston on the feed run, I can tell that a number of vehicles used our road/drive extra-gate as a turn-around zone (there's a lot of space there, rather deliberately, to be able to maneuver a livestock trailer if needed). And the west end of the building is collapsed, and obviously burnt.

Now, representatives of ATF are out doing some investigation. "'Curiouser and Curiouser,' said Alice."

Entirely too much excitement for this neck of the woods. Might be getting too crowded. And yes, good readers, the directions to our place do include 'Turn off the paved road onto the dirt road', many Locals are known to travel with actual shotguns (as opposed to say umbrellas or such) in those shot-gun racks inside their pickup trucks, and in fact those pickups and other 4WD type vehicles are actual sports or working vehicles as opposed to Yuppie Assault Vehicles. I would be hard-pressed to pick out the scratch from a keying on Forrest Nissan Pickup amongst the other scratches and dents put there by young bulls and underbrush.

People consider it to be polite to sound one's horn a hundred feet or so from a house when trying to raise attention, rather than going up and banging on the door. It's not unusual for them to come up and visit that way at all, either. Particularly someone wanting to know if there's goat or hog available for sale just now.

But burning buildings? That's hardly the norm around here.

It was a weekend.

Thursday-Friday night, Squrrl (of all dogs) popped his line. Not a big problem, as he simply stayed home, and probably chased off whatever was bothering the goats. So toward the end of an otherwise Day the news was added to it that Squrrl needed a new line. KthxCanDo.

Saturday... it rained. Glorious rain. Tropical Storm Barry wept upon us and the grasses are grateful. Saturday evening after the rain passed, I gave Squrrl his new line and he was happy.

Saturday night... Squrrl popped is line. Whatever he chased off this time, our next-door-ranch-neighbor found him out in the middle of County Highway 241 (so, upwards of a kilometer/half mile from home). Fortunately, on Sunday mornings 241 doesn't have a lot of traffic. Also fortunately, our neighbor recognised Squrrl and brought him home. Needless to say, tomorrow I will revisit the store wherefrom the line was purchased, with line and receipt in hand. The lines we use are rated for dogs up to 225 pounds (that's a shade over 100 kilograms, eh?) For a 60 pound Border Collie to pop a brand new one? Hmm.

Today, errand running with Herself. Herself is happy. Errands involved prepatory work for redoing flooring through about half the house, and early prepatory work to renovate the kitchen. Squrrl is in his kennel (instead of out with the goats...); dinner is consumed, and I am off for a hot soak.

Did not go to Hospital yesterday. Back bothered me, tired, variations on that theme. So I did not go to Hosptial. By afternoon, felt a bit better and so drove Herself about for errands. Our land tax Certificate of Deposit is purchased, something we've done for nearly 10 years now when we receive our income tax refund. This provides a small amount of interest earning and a great amount of peace of mind, knowing that the money to pay this year's property taxes is safely tucked away where going after for some other reason will invoke a penalty. The CD matures just before the taxes are due. If we've enough in savings at the time (has happened a couple times) not allocated for other projects, we'll let the CD roll over. Otherwise, Property Taxes! Yeah.

Then off to Home Ditto for shelving supplies. Herself is re-doing our Utility Closet. On the floor plans, this was called the Utility Room, and has the hookups for washer and dryer. Our washer and dryer were on the enclosed back deck of Studio 318. Well, OK, they still are. We're contemplating putting them over here. Means that small room, or large closet (depending on viewpoint) needs a more efficient shelving plan, and Herself kept herself busy yesterday working on that. Drove the cats bonkers. What? What? Why are you changing our universe, Monkey?

Because we can. Because, cat, You Don't Have Thumbs.

Also picked up milk, and a few other groceries, and paid the U.S. Post Awful their rental on the mailbox. We don't receive post at teh Ranch. The mail box would be too far from the house, and twice a day most days I journey through the local community and so we use a post office box address. That's good for another year. Also nice that we paid it yesterday, because Monday the rent goes up. But we're good.

Then home. Time with the Bros. Who are most annoyed with the local coyote population, and so we've begun bringing all the goats into the Maternity Pen at night. Daytime (since the kids are now big enough to keep up with the herd) they go out to their paddock, but night time we bring them up closer to the house. Which provides the Bros opportunity to return their annoyance with the local coyote population. The coyote's are annoyed that shopping at teh Ranch for fresh meat just got so much more expensive. Well, yeah, it's worth their lives now. Heh.

Today, studio work, but not making photos, sorting through photos and cataloging, as well as some other work. Thursday evening was a shoot for the new Levy County Fair Association, doing a group portrait of the Executive Officers. Why yes, it's an inside job, as I'm a founding member of the LCFA. Hasn't been a Levy County Fair for nearly 50 years. We'd like to see one again, regularly. Will keep you posted on that.

Right now, breakfast. It's what's for champions. Or something like that.

Crawling underneath the old single-wide which is now Studio 318 tells me two things: I am not so limber as I was when we moved out here 18 years ago, and I probably need to re-think bringing water service back to this 27 year-old no longer mobile home.

That I want to bring water service back is not the question. I do, for many reasons. The old flexible plastic plumbing gave up in September/October of 2004, after all the power loss/power surge episodes brought about by the hurricanes. Actually, it would be the surge in water pressure that did it, but since water pressure comes back with electrical service here on teh Ranch (joys of one's own well, eh) the two are intertwined. I may still try to get to the site of the known leak tomorrow.

The problem is, that mobile is set close to the ground. There's the minimum 18" ground clearance at the closest approach, which is at the very end where the old bedroom, now office is. So where the break is, there's room for me to crawl, sort of. See, there's these two long I-beams which make up the frame upon which the place is built; there's insufficient clearance between ground and I-beam for me to fit anymore. Maybe. As for crawling from the end with the greatest ground clearance, that route I tried first. But there's the small matter of the drain tube to the septic tank. That crosses the width of the place, and between the high end and the break in the plumbing. And guess what... there's insufficient room for me to fit between that tube and the bottom of the floor joists anymore.

Or at least I don't feel too comfortable about trying it.

We'll see. Fixing the break would be the easiest means (probably) to get water service back. Otherwise, I'll need to run new tubing along one edge of the place, underneath it, and up to the respective sinks, toilets, and shower. Also, I probably wouldn't be putting water back to the original bathroom in this plan; that's next to the old bedroom/office, not a lot of ground clearance there. One functional water closet, with shower, is better than none.