I’m not a fan of large crowds, and especially not large, drunk crowds, so I spend my New Year’s Eves at home, chilling out, reading, and watching football. This year was no different.
Redneck neighbor guy apparently scraped together some pennies this year to invest in fireworks, as there were random pops of things going off well before midnight. Loud noises like that are things that scare the big dog, so he winds up close to me, regardless of where I am (including in the bathroom).
The puppy ignores all that, but also is always by my side – he’s very loyal.
So, we plopped ourselves on the couch (and floor), watched some football, and then watched The Boondock Saints, recommended to me by my little brother. Not bad.
Beyond the random firework noise, which was minimal, we had a nice quiet entry into the new year. That’s the way I prefer it.
*I tried to post this last night, on the 2nd, to stay with my goal of posting every day, but naturally my ISP – a satellite company I will not name – crapped itself on the uplink side. Those images up there took eight and six tries, respectively, to upload, and I won’t even go into the timeouts all over the place. I finally sent them an email (via my phone, because even their customer page wouldn’t load) asking them WTF was going on, and this morning on the 3rd seems to be better – although it’s storming here at the moment, and they’re not very good about staying up during rain. Or fog. Or sunshine. Or anything. We’ll see if it stays that way after I return from my doctor’s visit and a run to the store.
I’m a Pisces, astrologically speaking, if you’re into that sort of thing. But I had a visit from a member of that group. An actual member.
The most common one we see at the ranch is the Hentz striped scorpion – that’s the critter above. It’s the most common of the three types found in Florida, as it happens, and none of the three are lethal. Their stings can be painful on the scale with a wasp or hornet sting, though. How do I know this?
Because that critter there got me, twice, the other night when I went to bed. Somehow, it got into the house. Then, somehow, it made it to my room. After that, somehow, it managed to crawl up into my bedsheets. When I laid down, it went under the sleeve of my shirt, near my armpit, and, feeling threatened at that point by the motions of my arm and the tightness of that space, proceeded to sting me. Twice. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on at first – I thought perhaps I’d carried a bee with me all day long and she’d finally had enough, but when I hit the flashlight app on my phone and looked, there it was. I flung it on the floor, and let me tell you this: those things can move fast.
It was just shy of three inches long. Was is the operative word, as that scorpion, like the parrot, is no more. But it did give me the creeps and now when I finally get to bed, at whatever oddball time that is, I have to scout around to make sure no other visitors from that particular clan are looking to abuse my hospitality by invading my house.
The cucumbers, running rampant in he front garden north, got some trellis work today, and the green beans, caught in the tentacles of those cukes, were freed to go about their business.
When I completed multiple levels of trellising on both sides of the cuke runs, I found my hero standing over the dead body of one of his enemies, which he had been stalking for a few days now.
The common eastern mole, making messes of yards everywhere for eons.
I did not cut it in half with the scissors, no. I just didn’t have any gloves with me during that particular excursion to the garden, and simply used the tool I had to pick him up and toss him over the fence into the ditch area by the road to allow nature’s cleanup crew (vultures, ants, etc.) take care of it.
A small pair of birds built a nest in a ponytail palm we had brought up on the back patio during one of the more frigid evenings in our “winter” season. We hadn’t quite gotten to putting it back out before they started building, and when we realized what they were doing, we couldn’t move it at that point – that would be rude!
The female laid a total of four eggs, and on our occasional peeks, it seems all of them hatched into the usual ugly, reminiscent-of-dinosaurs babies. We have some pics of them both pre and post hatching, but for now, a little clip of one of the parents bringing home the bacon, as it were.
20160424 PM feeding
This day, the first day of the new year, has been an odd one. I was up well past the turn of the year, until almost 3 AM. My oldest dog got me up at 4:45 so he could run out and do some business. We all went back to bed, but were up again just before 8 AM. Since then, it’s been nonstop work, either outside (and I’ll have a separate post about that) or inside. No naps, except for the dogs, and it’s about 7:15 in the evening right now but it feels like late evening. Very late evening. Like “this would be a good time to call it a day” evening and go to bed. But it’s far too early for that, and I still have to eat again today as I’ve only had two so far: my usual to start the day, and then this for the new year, as is traditional.
Beans and rice and cornbread, with diced onion and ham. It doesn’t look like much – the soul eating baby could probably eat three of these – but it’s about what I can handle. I managed almost all of it. The leftover, sans onion, went to the dogs. We could all use a little luck for the new year, I think.
A common orb weaver, hanging out in the leaves of the horseradish plants, waiting for something unlucky to come along.
As you can see from the leaves of the plants, the beetles were having a go at them. Since the value of the horseradish is in the root, not the leaves, and as the leaves are plentiful and mostly intact, the plants can weather the bug attack without too many issues other than those cosmetic. Every bug these helpers catch and devour is a plus.
My oldest dog – the one who is mostly blind, deaf to anything but the loudest of noises, and generally a cranky old man – keeps getting me up in the very early morning hours so he can get outside and do his business. That business includes what seems to be a routine early morning poop, and if I am not quick enough to the door to open it, it becomes my business because he’s certainly not going to pick it up himself. This is relatively new behavior, as he would generally be able to hold it for the hour or so later I would be getting up anyway, but as I say, he’s an old man and it seems his body is no longer up to that task. I say this only because he woke me u on this particular day after I’d had about two hours of sleep thanks to a server issue that took me to the NOC in the wee hours. Luckily for me, there was no bonus poop round to start my day. There was also no early treadmill session, as I went back to bed for a bit, finally giving up on the sleeping attempt when I awoke just shy of two hours later.
In the evening, I had a rather bad round of reflux/indigestion, the kind that makes you feel as if you’re on the verge of throwing up or dying (or both), but got some meds down successfully and only dry heaved once or twice before recovering. I thought I might pass on the evening treadmill session, because I didn’t feel like it at all after the day that had passed. I did it anyway, and it wasn’t terrible. There’s a lesson there I should take to heart for my writing.
Back in action today with two sessions on the treadmill, complete with trying to convince the puppy to stop playing with his ball and knocking it under the thing. I don’t think this will stick with him – after all, dogs have the attention spam of about four seconds, which is why they’re so absurdly pleased to see you when you just walk out to the car for something and then come back in.
Thirteen minutes this morning, just under fifteen late this afternoon, and more reading done. It’s interesting, reading a book in increments of 10-20 minutes at a time. I read very quickly, though, so it doesn’t take me forever to get through something while I’m putting one foot in front of the other to get to the end of my time or distance. It’s already becoming a habit and our (the dogs and my) routine is working out rather nicely. The only hiccup is when it will have to be done to work around medical appointments, including the xmas gift I’m getting of an MRI on my brain so they can see nothing’s there. Har Har.
Another chicken down, sadly: mom informs me after she’s collected eggs that one of the chickens is dead (because I am the dead chicken collector). She didn’t take a close look as she doesn’t like to look at them too closely after they’ve died and won’t watch if I have to put one down. So, my sister happens to be here, and goes to dig a hole while I go collect the girl for burial. Through my extensive and sharply honed detective skills, I find the cause of death: the chicken’s head has been ripped off. The most likely culprit? Raccoon. I picked up the poor girl, gently placed her in the hole my sister had dug, and we covered her up. I checked the perimeter of the fence on that side and found a gap in the gate that a raccoon may have been able to fit through, and a section of the wire above the fence that is not as high as the rest but also bowed outwards – something I’ll ask my bro to address when he’s up next (as well as asking him to walk the full perimeter to check for other gaps/necessary repair locations). In the meantime: RIP, other red chicken.
One of my dogs sleeps in my bed more than I do. That wouldn’t be interesting in and of itself except for the way he sleeps, with his legs and head tangled somewhere in the footboard design. I still don’t understand how animals can sleep this way. Just looking at them sometimes makes my neck ache.