Sometimes a person's highest calling is to provide a lap where a tiny girl can curl up and feel miserable.
Quicksilver was struggling today. By 9:00 AM it was clear that it was an issue that needed to be escalated. Mrs ERJ took her to the local Doc-in-a-Box whilst I batted about the countryside getting the "I's and T's" of necessary-paperwork dotted-and-crossed. "The pink-stuff" was prescribed and Quicksilver received two doses before she was shipped back to the mother(and father)-ship.
So I was either sitting in the Silverado getting 17.4 mpg or sitting in the recliner providing a warm, soft nesting place for our darling Quicksilver.
The ice-cream machine might not have a post for tomorrow morning.
I showed up at the designated fishing hole without a rod, pole or anything. I thought I would chat with Shotgun while he smoked his See-gar and I swatted mosquitoes.
Life has been busy. It turns out that the property that I was asked to manage has a riding mower (23 horsepower!!!). What a beast. Two-and-a-half hours in the seat of a mower is worlds different than pushing a mower for the same amount of time. Almost 65 years-old and I finally land the equivalent of an office job!
But still, I just didn't have it in me to go fishing.
Shotgun kept pulling in whopper female bluegills and sunfish that were gravid with roe. He kept cussing and throwing them back into the lake. He was fishing for a runt to use as cut bait.
I bet he pulled in a dandy panfish every two minutes. He could not even pause long enough to light his See-gar.
I bet he will be complaining about having sore arms and wrists tomorrow.
bravokilo wrote on May 15 at 2:57 AM "...I'd give substantial odds that the young complainers are predominately public-schoolers from agnostic households."
Let's talk a little bit about that.
Public school teachers are one of the last bastions of unions.
Unions "create" jobs by demanding that members do "only their jobs and nothing more."
When a Language Arts teacher teaches a song to a class, then a Music Teacher gets fired. Or so their thinking goes. Not every teacher, but every student is likely to encounter several teachers over the years who are trapped in this mindset.
A good, dues-paying Union teacher does not steal the custodian's job by doing any maintenance or vacuuming her own carpet. A good Union, dues-paying teacher takes care to not teach outside her subject to the point where individual subjects are taught as stand-alone silos.
A good Union teacher supports her comrades in education by telling all of her students that they have to continue on to college and (probably) advanced degrees.
Hold that thought...
Home Ownership
The supply of new housing has been choked by NIMBY home owners who want to protect the high assessment of their house as it is often the single greatest asset they own. Constricting the flow of new housing units in their neighborhood accelerates the appreciation in desirable neighborhoods.
The same home owners also approve of regulations that increase the cost of building new homes for the same reasons. It is estimated that in Michigan, regulations add $90,000 to the cost of a new, stick-built, single housing unit.
If home ownership is the path to building wealth*, then the only elevator up for most young people is to purchase an older home in an older neighborhood and the best prices are in dodgy neighborhoods.
Can the typical new college graduate:
Fix a toilet that keeps running
Change a light bulb
Reset a tripped breaker
Fix a leaky faucet or clean the aerator
Clear a plugged drain
Clean a bathroom
Dry out flooded bathroom or laundry room
Find a wall stud to hang a shelf or artwork
Fix a hole in the dry-wall
Paint a wall
Change a wall switch or power outlet
Change the filters in their HVAC unit (do they even know what HVAC means)
Clean a dryer vent
Find a gas leak
Move an appliance
Bypass a power garage door opener that is on-the-fritz
Clean the gutters
Mow the grass
Shovel the walk
Dig a hole
Divert water run-off away from your foundation
Pour a slab of concrete
Call tradesmen for quotes
Hire a tradesman when appropriate and be able to communicate the issue and expectations
Tighten screws to fix loose doors, strike-plates, hand-rails, etc.
Lubricate a lock or a hinge or replace a door-handle
How to set a mouse-trap? Where to set it? How to bait it? How to remove the dead mouse?
Deal with a bad neighbor
Remember, these kids have been soaking in an environment where "Not my job" is the default response. Many of them don't have a dad or uncle whose expertise they can tap.
I wholeheartedly agree that these kids' futures have been sabotaged by "The System" which resulted in many/most growing up in women-headed, single-parent households and then being brainwashed in government run schools. It isn't that they can't learn. It is that they have been filled with misinformation and they have been told they cannot learn and that learning those skills is beneath them.
They have also been brainwashed into believing that labels are permanent: Example "I am a Language Arts teacher and that is all I (can) do." That is very limiting when it comes to picking up second and third jobs. Even a person in construction (nowadays) won't consider picking up a second job working in a fast-food joint. A person who works at McD's won't consider painting, and so on.
* "only elevator up" is the conventional wisdom and is historically true.
Just because something is historically true does not mean that it will continue infinitely into the future.
In real (physical) terms, houses are in a constant state of rust, rot, decay and depreciation. Their value is inflated by external forces like increasing population (without immigration our population would be imploding), proximity to desirable jobs (gotta fiber-optic, broadband connection?), low-crime neighborhood and the universal expectation that values will ALWAYS go up and that minor flat-spots in appreciation will be temporary and of short duration. The people who play the market call that "animal spirits".
All of these secular trends that created an up-draft in house values are waning.
Older Americans are cashing-out, downsizing and moving to leisure/health-centered/low-tax locations.
Section 8 housing is popping up everywhere as politicians jockey to put reliable voters in every district.
Knowledge work can be done from home (or India).
The cost of maintaining a house is going up as more (experienced) tradesmen retire than (unskilled) apprentices enter the trades.
Major appliances have a 10 year life-expectancy and need more frequent replacement.
Rising interest rates make using your (presumably ever-increasing) home-equity as an ATM to fund your life-style is less attractive.
The waning and reversal of those mutually-supporting secular trends suggests that housing as a wealth-builder may not be a sure-bet in the future.
Samson Davis swung by the house at his lunch-break to retrieve his phone before heading east, off the property to use it. He wanted to research swales or "key-line detention ponds". The three new cows drank as much water as twenty humans and the weather was only going to get hotter.
Turning on the phone, he was unable to connect with his cell provider. That was unusual!
As he stared at the deep-blue screen, a message started scrolling across it and started looping.
“11:23 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: To all citizens. Shelter in Place. Do not leave your homes, school or place of business. More information to follow.”
“Oh crap! It started!” Samson thought. He tucked the phone into his pocket and went to find Heddy. Samson was sure that WWIII had just started.
***
The Sheriff called all of the non-corrections staff who were on duty into the squad room.
“I was just informed that all Law Enforcement Personnel will be Federalized as-of noon, Eastern Standard Time today” he informed the assembled staff.
“Does being Federalized mean that we can be ordered to leave Rhea County?” Deputy Canina asked.
“I cannot answer that” the Sheriff admitted.
Canina turned to leave the meeting.
“Where are you going?” the Sheriff asked. “I haven’t dismissed the meeting yet.”
“I just resigned and I am going to clean out my locker before the clock hits noon” Canina said. “...unless you want me to disrobe here in front of the staff.”
Canina came from a military family and she had a very clear understanding about the consequences of being AWOL after one was “Federalized”. Whatever had happened had thoroughly spooked The Feds and they were not screwing around. Canina would rather take her chances as a civilian than as a "door-kicker".
“Just give me your badge and weapon” the Sheriff said. "Leave the rest of your gear in your locker."
Canina unpinned her badge and handed it to him. Then she dropped the magazine from her weapon, racked the slide, reinserted her duty pistol into the holster and then handed the holster and belt to the Sheriff. Two other deputies were standing behind Canina and doing the same thing. Most of the office-staff elected to stay in their positions.
***
11:40 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: Martial Law is declared and Right-to-Assemble is suspended until further notice.
Current estimate is that two weeks will be required to contain terrorist elements.
***
11:45 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: No Semi Tractor-Trailer trucks to be allowed in tunnels or on bridges crossing navigable rivers (List attached, subject to later additions) or on roads that pass beneath rail lines prior to being searched by certified explosives-sensing dogs or certified technicians using calibrated “sniffers”. Use of lethal force authorized to stop rogue trucks.
***
11:55 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: People operating “drones” within 400 meters of transformer substations or power generation plants to be detained and their aircraft to be crash-landed. No exceptions. Use of lethal force is authorized.
***
12:07 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: URGENT! All fuel stations to discontinue sale of diesel fuel and to restrict customer to one-gallon of gasoline per day, effective immediately.
***
12:15 EST EXECUTIVE ORDER from President Albert: Only Federalized Forces are allowed to possess firearms. Violation of this order is subject to summary execution.
Details for turning in firearms to be published at a later date.
***
In a suburb south of Cincinnati Fred Jaeger told his boss "I have to go home. My wife has panic-attacks. She gets anxiety and thinks she is having a heart attack."
Fred's boss told him to not punch out. He would take care of it. By manually entering the "punch", his boss could avoid the hassle that might come from allowing one of his charges to violate the Executive Order. He could pretend that he simply thought Fred had forgotten to punch-out.
Brittany, Fred's wife was no more prone to panic than anybody else but they had talked about what “On your mark, get set, GO!” would look like. The shelter-in-place order matched the description.
Fred knew that it would take time to enforce the orders. The Jaeger family could either move now and apologize if caught...or wait for months or even years as the "two weeks to control the situation" and "...in an abundance of caution..." played out.
Brittany was happy that Fred had been a stickler for keeping the vehicles more than half full of fuel. In normal times it was a three-hour drive to Copperhead Cove but Fred already had a route using back-roads highlighted out on the paper map-book. And he had alternates in case choke-points were impassible. Thank God they lived on the Kentucky side of the Ohio River!
Fred stuck the thin poly tubing down the fuel-fill pipe of the Camry to drain it into jerry cans. They would would only be taking Fred's extended-cab pickup.
As the low-voltage pump hummed away, Fred started moving tubs from the shelving that lined the front of his garage into the trailer staged in the turn-around where the kids had a basketball hoop. He figured he had about two-and-a-half hours before the kids got home from school before they could flee.
Fred had the tubs color coded with the stickers folks used at yard-sales. The heaviest tubs went in the front of the trailer and on the bottom level.
The last thing Fred had on his check-list to pack were twenty, used, 300 Watt solar panels and the controllers for them.
A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of Hay A swarm of bees in June is worth a silver Spoon A swarm of bees in July is not worth a Fly
Quicksilver noticed them first. "Bee! Bee! Bee!!!" and excited dancing an pointing.
I checked them out. It appears that a swarm of bees took residence in our soffit or wall. Mrs ERJ indicated that while she enjoys honey she does not like to be stung and that they have to go.
A local bee-keeper will pay us a visit but he straight up said it was going to cost money to extract the bees. I expect him to add another $50 when he sees how close it is to the picture window due to the risk of collateral damages while ripping out facing.
I have a trap-hive out in the forlorn hope of luring them out of the wall but figure it is a less-than-1% chance. I have sugar sprinkled on top of the box and a cotton swab with a few drops of lemongrass oil inside the box.
Lots of people love the IDEA of keeping bees but very, very few have the temperament and stones to follow through. Keeping them through the summer and into the fall is the easy part. Getting them through the winter is what separates the pretenders from those who are called.
The smart money says that I will end up bug-bombing the honeybees rather than shelling out the bucks to have them removed as an intact swarm. Three pounds of bees runs about $150, locally.
Hummingbirds
I saw our first visitor to our feeder today.
Dumbbells
I am adding concrete to the dumbbell that I have outside. They are currently 130 pounds and I have a bunch of plates strapped across them to mass them up. My current plan is to add 40 pounds to each side.
100 pounds of concrete completely fills the five gallon bucket I am using for a form. I slipped a plastic trash bag over the 65 pound lump that is already cast on the end of the pipe and then put the lump + bag into the five gallon bucket with the edges of the bag turned down the outside of the bucket.
Cool season grass grows the most in mid-spring. I mow, I mow, its off to work I go... (apologies to the Seven Dwarfs)
It has been hard to get to the gym. Too much to do. It is very handy to have them between the barn and the house. I can do a few dead-lifts each time I walk past them.
Implied precision
"Implied precision" is the degree of
quality in a number implied by the number of "significant digits". I can
measure a manure pile with a micrometer and the angle of the conicity
with optics and calculate the volume to be 3.679254 cubic yards.
But if I measure it next week after a rainfall and some settling I might calculate 3.1796595 cubic yards.
So which number is it? The correct answer is 3 yards. It could be as little as 2.5 yards or as much as 4 yards.
So when I say that I am adding "80 pounds" to the dumbbells, it could be as little as 75 pounds or as much as 90 pounds.
Cabbage seeds started
I started about fifty Deadon savoy cabbage seeds. I have not intention of growing that many plants.
Deadon is now my go-to. Being a savoy (crinkly leaf) cabbage, it is naturally resistant to splitting due to autumn rains.
The old Stokes Seed Catalog said that every day that sowing late-cabbage seeds was delayed moved the harvest date back three days due to the shortening days and cooler temperatures in late fall. That makes planting cabbage seeds a time-critical task.
Galloway identifies as a "Liberal". Even as a "conservative", he is throwing scorching-hot fastballs down the center of the strike zone. Five minute run-time.
Jack Sorenson is unusual for one of my Fine Art Tuesday posts because he is still alive and actively painting. He was born in 1954 and grew up on the rim of the Palo Duro Canyon near Amarillo in the great state of Texas.
I was engaged by his gift for telling a story with an image and reached out to him and requested permission to post some of his work. Most artists don't respond to those requests, not even the living ones. Mr Sorenson DID respond. His only request was that I remind you that he owns the Copyrights to the paintings and they are his intellectual property.
With no further ado, here are a smattering of his paintings.
That farm-kid has some muscles in his arms! Not a snow-flake.
Was it McManus or Ruark who wrote the short story The Care and Feeding of Old Men?
I saw where somebody had "ripped this image off" to make a meme which read something like "Never apologize for celebrating Christmas". That is probably the kind of unpaid use of his work that Mr Sorenson had in mind when he asked me to remind you that these pictures are his intellectual property and to respect that.
My personal opinion is that if you don't see something that rings-your-bell, you should probably be checked to see if you still have a pulse.
I am not very big at self-promotion, but if you happen to purchase some of his work, you might mention that you saw his work here. If word gets around I might be able to post more work by living artists.
Quicksilver is healthy. Mrs ERJ is healthy. I am still functional although that could change as soon as the orchard grass starts pollinating.
Our normal routine is for me to care for Quicksilver for the first couple of hours and then hand her off to the beautiful and talented Mrs ERJ. I am the morning person.
I was out-the-door at 9:00 AM and got 88 feet of sweet corn row planted. I ran the weed whacker. Mowed. Lugged fence posts to a staging area. Put replacement posts into the grape arbor. Solved world hunger. Figured out a way to get the lambs to lay down with the lions. Tied a bunch of raspberry canes to a trellis. Washed some bedding. Cleared out several brush piles. Wrote the Fine Art Tuesday post which includes several pictures of TB as a child.
OK. Maybe I exaggerated a little. But I did get an honest 4-1/2 hours of work in today.
Phenology
Prunus serotina range map
With regard to planting field corn and the first flight of sweet corn, the most obvious "marker" for me is that Wild Black Cherry (Prunus serotina) is in full bloom.
This observation requires some caveats. Commercial farmers use seed that is treated with fungicides and insecticides and they can plant into cold, wet soils that would be a big problem for a duffer like me who saves his own seeds. Even with all of the fancy treatments, most years the seed that is planted early just sits there and not much happens until the soil warms up.
Furthermore, sweet corn has shrunken, shriveled seeds that don't have a lot of get-up-and-go. They benefit from being planted into a finely prepared seedbed and planted not quite as deep as field corn. Because they are fussy, an extra week or two is not a bad thing for planting sweet corn as long as you have moisture.
The main point being that planting a couple of weeks after the commercial farmers does not mean you lose a month of the growing season...as long as you have enough soil moisture to get reliable germination of your corn seeds.
Hummingbirds
Sprite informed Mrs ERJ that she just saw the first hummingbird of the season at her feeder.
The Iranians have a network of thuggish terrorist groups throughout the Arabic speaking world, from Lisbon-to-Jakarta.
Somalia imports 75% of the food (on a calorie basis) in a normal year. Droughts and accelerating environmental degradation from over-grazing and civil-war put the 25% they do grow into free-fall. When compared to other very-poor nations, Somali corn (maize) yields are 20% of their median yields on a per-area basis.
The Iranians, through their proxies (Hamas in Gaza and the Houthi in Yemen) virtually shut-off the Suez canal. Lloyds of London will only tolerate so much of an ass-whipping with regard to piracy and damaged ships.
World prices for Wheat.
Wheat which is primarily purchased from Ukraine and Russia and shipped from the Black Sea through the Suez Canal to Mogadishu spiked in 2022 and is jumping up again due to the increased shipping costs.
Another concern is that there is a shortage of ships that can move the grain. If it takes five times longer to ship around the Horn of Africa then it takes five times as many ships to carry the grain. So not only is the price rising but the flow is choked to a trickle.
Over 70% of the typical Somali income is spent on food. They cannot absorb a doubling in the cost.
Evan threw down his hoe. “How is this not slavery!” he howled.
“What do you mean?” Blain asked.
It had been days since Blain had to deal with an outburst so he decided to treat it seriously. Besides, they were slowly clawing their way back to where Sarah said they should be in terms of planting. The rains had slowed everybody down but the extra manpower did come with some benefits.
“I don’t wanna be here. I don’t wanna be doing this. I ain’t getting paid. That is slavery” Evan said.
In a way, Evan had a point.
“No work. No food. You are eating, aren't ya?” Blain pointed out.
“But I am not eating THIS food” Evan retorted. “I am eating food Alice was going to be throwing out anyway.”
Blain didn’t point out that the scraps from the root-cellar were earmarked to be fed to the hogs and/or chickens, something he had learned on Sig's patio. Given Evan’s state-of-mind, it would not be heard well. He was eating "pig food".
“But you will be, come September” Blain pointed out.
“I don’t THINK so” Evan said, sarcastically.
Blain stopped what he was doing and gave Evan his full attention. “How do you figure?”
“I ain’t gonna be here” Evan said, confidently. “Dad is going to need to go back to the hospital and Mom is going to take him. We go back to St Louis.”
“Even if that doesn’t happen, me and Abe are going to figure out how to get back to St Louis in August at the latest” Evan concluded.
“So how are you going to live if you aren’t with your mom and dad?” Blain asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Abe is going to enroll in college and take out student loans. I will crash with him” Evan said. It all seemed very simple. “Then, when I turn 17 I will also go to college and live like a king.”
“You know those are loans, don’t you. You are expected to pay them back” Blain informed him. Blain could have brought up FAFSA and the tangled mess involved in getting loans but decided to keep it simple.
“Not as long as I keep going to school, I don’t” Evan shot back.
“So you are going to stay in school forever?” Blain asked.
“Yup. It will pay for my rent and food and transportation and there are always plenty of girls on college campuses” Evan said. He had it all figured out.
“What happens if you get expelled?” Blain asked.
“I will kill myself” Evan said, glibly.
“You know SOMEBODY is paying for you to go to school, don’t you?” Blain asked.
“Yeah, so…” Evan said.
“Where do you think that comes from?” Blain persisted.
“I dunno. Maybe the government prints it or maybe it is from taxes. I really don’t care” Evan said.
“It is from taxes” Blain said. “It comes from payroll taxes and from a tax on savings called ‘inflation’ that penalizes people who worked and didn’t spend all of their earnings.”
“Then they ought to get taxed. They got plenty” Evan said.
“So you think taxes are good?” Blain asked, marveling at how his perspective in life had flip-flopped from when HE was a young man with a very simple view of the universe.
“Absolutely!!! They got plenty and should be happy to share” Evan repeated with absolute confidence.
“Then consider what you are doing to be a tax. You got plenty of years ahead of you and you have plenty health and a back that is plenty strong enough to do this kind of work” Blain offered. "You should be happy to share!"
Evan kicked the hoe and went storming off.
Blain decided it was a good time to take a break. He had let his urge to argue get the better of him. And while he won the argument, Evan HAD brought us some good points.
***
Evan was stormily silent after lunch.
Blain was thoughtful. He had shared what happened with Sarah and she had mentioned that starting at 8, the children of Copperhead Cove were given a portion of a plot to grow whatever they wanted. The children were still expected to care for the family gardens first but then after their parents said they were ‘Done for the day’ the children could go care for their own plots. The size of the portion increased based on how well they cared for (mostly in pulling weeds) their personal plot.
When Evan’s body language showed that he had cooled down a little bit, Blain asked him “So if you could plant anything you wanted, what would it be?”
Evan didn’t even have to think. “Melons. I would plant melons and sugar cane. I miss sweet things.”
That night, at Sig’s patio, Blain brought up the events of the day and concluded “Sarah and I talked this over. Walter and Amira need every bit of garden planted to staples and can’t afford to risk any of it.”
Walter nodded in agreement. Even if they had a decent crop of corn and potatoes, they would be “tight” for food. There was no margin for experimenting.
Sig offered “Sugar cane doesn’t grow in Tennessee but melons sure do.”
“How good of a worker is Evan?” Roger asked.
“He is sometimes a little slow getting started but once he gets going, he has a lot of focus” Blain reported.
Then the conversation evolved into an extended round-robin about who had melon seeds, where they might be able to get better seeds, where melons had done best in the past. Once again, Blain was impressed by the amount of attention that went into the smallest details and how much energy was exerted behind the scenes to “save” a potentially wayward son.
Roger ended the half-hour of debate by saying “I think I have part of a plot that will work. Abe and I will knock-off early and meet you and Evan by the plot with the big, blue rock in the corner. Might as well get both of them involved.”
He concluded “I think it is time for Abe and Evan to learn about share-cropping.”
We picked up a phone charger on the way home from Mass. Mrs ERJ and I have the same brand and model of phone but she PREFERS that I have my own charger.
Her phone case is blue. Mine is "I can find it in the weeds" orange. I will have to be careful around Sugar Maples in October but other than that I should be good-to-go.
For those who are curious, I have an iPhone SE Gen 3 (refurbished) running iOS 17 (released 2022) and running about $210 if you shop around. SE stands for Economy.
A plan well laid is a job well started
The same can be said about foundations that are level and square. It saves a lot of cut and re-cuts on material.
After a nap, I consulted with Mrs ERJ on the best way to plant the sweet corn. The current plan is to plant four flights, eight days apart starting May 15. Each flight will be almost 100 feet of row or 100-to-120 ears of corn.
That is a lot of stakes. 13 rows with four flights of sweet corn staked out and one long flight of "field corn". That ends up being six stakes per row, each one measured out with care and lovingly hammered into the ground.
We have friends. We have family. Excess will be processed and frozen.
Roughly speaking, we will have corn showing up in the first week of August and continuing until Labor Day.
Neal's Paymaster
Hickory Cane
Another 400 feet of row will be dedicated to "field corn". Most of it will be from seed that I have saved. Some will be from some varieties that people in the Tennessee River Valley grew back in the day. That would be Neal's Paymaster and Hickory Cane.
I am happy with the "season" of my saved seeds but the floury kernels are vulnerable to molds. Hickory Cane and Neal's Paymaster will be late-to-very late for me but they are dent corn and more resistant to mold.
All three selections are very tall. That is great for outrunning weeds but makes them vulnerable to blowing over.
Potatoes
The first potatoes are pushing shoots above the ground.
Shout-out to the fine citizens of Eaton County
I did not get called during my two weeks of summons for Jury Duty.
Thank-you for being such fine, law abiding citizens.
I enjoy this guy's channel. He is just a regular "dude" in Nepal who takes a LOT of video footage and posts it with minimal editing.
This video shows a woman harvesting a crop of garlic. Her "field" is probably about 150 square feet and I estimate that she pulled about 150 pounds of "wet" garlic out and will have about 25 pounds of salable bulbs.
The sound quality is pretty impressive. You can hear the roots snapping as she is pulling the plants.
I learn something from most of these kinds of videos. It never occurred to me that I could harvest my garlic when the tops were still 50% green.
Other tidbits: She pulls weeds (maybe chickweed and some dill) and she feeds it to her goats. She is wearing "western" style clothing that was probably channeled through Goodwill or similar charities and resold in 3rd world countries like Nepal. It is impressive how they are able to shoe-horn productive patches of garden into small and oddly-shaped bits of available, level ground.
It is difficult for me to imagine a culture that is so accepting of a stranger showing up and being allowed to take intensive and personal video footage like this.
New phone
I purchased a new phone and Belladonna, saint that she is, did all of the button-pushing to port the service to the new device.
I have a learning curve to go through. I struggle to turn the darned thing on which may be a combination of my fat thumb and the protective case that guards the "Home" key.
Another feature that sucks is that it takes enormous photos (like 24 megapixels) which will blow-up my email. So I need an app to shrink them down to 1200 pixels on a side, max. Nor am I wild about having them stored on "the cloud".
It bothers me that NOBODY who does not clean their lens with fanatical frequency and surgical care benefits from that kind of pixelation. Grumble, grumble, grumble.
Touching the "Wet Paint"
So, after pissing on the nurses for eating Carrot Cake I went and made one.
One, 9 ounce package of Jiffy Yellow Cake mix 1/2 tsp cinnamon and 1/4 tsp nutmeg mixed dry.
One egg, 1/2 cup applesauce and 2 Tbl spoons molasses (mixed together)
1.5 cups of grated carrots, 1/4 cup of raisins, dried cherries and chopped walnuts, each.
As if making muffins, mix liquids (line 2) with dry cake mix (line 1). Be gentle and just mix until all ingredients are wet and most dry clumps are broken.
Fold in carrots, raisins, cherries and nuts. Mix until well-wetted by the batter.
Place into an 8" square pan (I used Pyrex) and cook at 325 F for 25 minutes. Turn off heat and leave in oven for an additional 10 minutes.
I frosted with cream-cheese frosting but I think it was better without the frosting.
I got good reviews from the family on the effort.
Grafting
I made a trip to the property I am managing.
I planned to graft, mow and spray herbicide.
Today was cool, wet and windy.
That made mowing and spraying non-starters. So I grafted. The highlight is that I grafted four Selber Shelbark Hickory scion to some Shagbark Hickory seedlings. Thanks to Lucky-in-Kentucky for the original scion. I also grafted some more mulberry trees.
BOLO Chestnuts
Somehow I misplaced about 10 pounds of chestnuts that I intended to use for seed nuts. I will probably find them in July, all dried out and dead.
I looked in all of the likely places, now I have to look in the unlikely ones.
Target planting date for late-cabbage seeds is May 15. That is the next major "tombstone date".
An old man with multiple health issues inherited a small parcel of land that gave him access to a lake. Fishing is the one joy the old man had in life. The property was bequeathed to him for untold decades of service to the previous owner.
The next-door neighbor moved the stakes that define the corners of the property and then built a split-rail fence across the access to the property to deny the old man access to it and so he (the neighbor) can use the property as if it were his own.
The next-door neighbor is counting on the fact that the old man is not well-to-do and will not be able to afford a lawyer to contest the fence.
Second vignette:
The Michigan Department of Natural Resources has a box in their org-chart dedicated to finding and contesting "infringement". That would be driveways built across State Parks, garages and Cannabis greenhouses built on State Parks, fences that just happen to give landowners an extra 3 or 300 feet....
I assume that most branches of the State government that have significant amounts of real-estate have similar boxes in their org-charts.
According to a confidential informer, the DNR branch has over 300 active cases on the books at this time.
The centerpiece of yesterday's event honored a nurse who came to the profession late in life. She was 29 when her husband died and a random bit of kindness from the visiting nurse changed the trajectory of her life.
She had no family within thousands of miles after her husband passed and no close friends at work. She felt adrift. She entered a nursing program for lack of any other path.
The visiting nurse, whether he knew it or not, was an agent of God, or an "angel" if you prefer. Nursing is what the new widow had been born to do.
Near the end of her speech, the nurse chided the audience. "I have been asked why I am retiring. Everybody can see that I love caring for people and they ask 'What will you DO?' "
"I am going to teach people how to cook. I am going to teach you (nurses) how to cook food that is good and that is good for you."
"Too many nurses think that OK to use every minute to take care of patients and your family. You are always rushed for time. And I watch you eat two chocolate-peanut butter brownies and a piece of carrot-cake for lunch every day while you catch up on paperwork. That is not OK."
"I am going to go into your homes and teach you how to take fresh vegetables and fresh meat and how to turn it into meals."
So there you have it. Nurses are not supposed to diagnose but this one did. Generalizing, the most productive people in our society are killing themselves by eating foods designed to have long shelf-life and to be eaten by distracted people. And it isn't just once-in-a-while. For some of us it is every darned day.
We have five senses. Food that is good for us excites all of those senses. Not only does it taste good, it looks good. It smells good. It feels good. It pairs very well with human conversation (sense of hearing). Oh, and it nourishes your body.
When I get pummeled by several, intersecting messages I take that as a sign that it is something worth blogging about.
The "new normal" killed the "old normal" and the "old-normal" isn't coming back
Hospitals are in a staffing and revenue death-spiral. If you, as an employee, don't take care of yourself then the system will suck you to the bottom of the sea as surely as the Titanic's suction did to swimmers.
If you are a supervisor, your management du jour will strip-mine your good-will, credibility and honor to meet their short-term objectives.
If you buy a new tractor you will be paying $2000 a year for as long as you own that tractor for software updates. No pay. No start.
A parenting analogy
One of the things the wise Mrs ERJ figured out early in our parenting was that attempting to be a "reasonable" parent meant that when you hit the end-of-the-rope it was impossible to temper actions with reason. It was all gone. The cup was empty.
Better to be more assertive early in the escalation and never get pushed over the edge. The difference as seen from the child's perspective is microscopic but it is huge from the parent's side of the interactions. Sometimes a little bit of theatrics is warranted. You can LOOK like you are at the end-of-your-rope without actually being dangerously angry.
Learn to say "NO" so you can sometimes say "Yes"
It used to be an article of faith that if you started to feed birds then it was a death-sentence for those birds if you stopped feeding them. I am sure Mrs Grundy was well intentioned and thought that her scare message would motivate bird-lovers to keep feeding the birds, but it was almost total B.S.
In the wild, the offerings of food are an endless kaleidoscope depending on season, rain, temperature. Food sources would spring up in full bounty only to disappear within days or weeks. And the birds didn't starve. They simply moved on to the other sources of food.
People come to you with their problems like birds come to a back-yard feeder. They come because they know that access to resources is a "sure thing". They don't come because "There are no other resources out there". They come because of habit and comfort and certainty.
If providing those resources (time, talent, money, physical goods, a listening ear...) start to drag you down, you CAN tell them "No." and take care of yourself. And to be honest, forcing them to find other sources of resources while they still have some mental flexibility will make them stronger. It will help them grow their network.
It is infinitely preferable that you and your immediate family remain strong and vital rather than have you hit-the-wall. It is preferable that those who lean on you have alternate sources of resources because we are all getting older and stuff happens.
Ironically, Mrs Grundy's admonition about not-stopping probably prevented many people from feeding the birds. They never said "Yes" because an authority told them that once they said "Yes" the lost the option of ever saying "No".
In addition to countless swallows keeping us company while we were fishing, there were birds about 300 yards from shore that were clearly catching insects on-the-wing over the water. The birds were bigger than the swallows and the mystery bird's wings were very long and slender. Nighthawks? Whipper-wills? Some kind of Swift?
There were also some very dark, almost black, duck-like birds flying across the lake that Shotgun tentatively IDed as cormorants (Boo-hiss).
Statins
I went to Scholar.google.com and looked up (statins life-expectancy) and one of the meta-studies that popped up had these two sentences in it:
Eight trials randomizing 65,383 adults (66.3% men) were
identified. The mean age ranged from 55 to 69 years old and the mean
length of follow-up ranged from 2 to 6 years. Only 1 of 8 studies showed
that statins decreased all-cause mortality.
And so while it is indisputable that they reduce cholesterol levels and reduce the number of Major Cardiovascular Events at a rate of one for every 250 patient-years, the net benefit in terms of life-expectancy is...weak.
One mechanism that could explain some of that is that the things the doctor tells us to do to lower or low-density cholesterol benefits many other systems in our body. Exercise, for instance is great for damping-down blood sugar spikes, circulation, blood pressure, helping your bowels move, bone and mental health.
Eating healthily helps keep weight down which helps everything listed above.
I suppose the temptation is to slack off on doing-the-right-thing if the statins drop your cholesterol below some, magic number.
Blood
I gave blood today at a local high school. The students were great. They allowed walk-ins to cut in line and give blood before they did. I am SURE than an extra 15 minutes out of class had NOTHING to do with their gentlemanly behavior.
The pollen of Orchard Grass (Dactylis glomerata) is my kryptonite. My eyes swell up and become irritated and itchy. I pretty much write off the week that pollination of that species is peaking.
Everything seems exceptionally early this year. My "lost week" is usually the first week of June. I expect it to start in the next seven days this year.
One of the countermeasures we are trying this year is a small HEPA filter in our bedroom. The unit is rated for 215 square-feet. We are also going to disrobe and put our day-clothes in a hamper in a different room, then to shower in an attempt to avoid walking more pollen into the bedroom.
We just started doing this but so far the results exceed expectations.
Today it took me 90 honest minutes to plant 15 raspberry bushes and to armor them against deer. I planted 6 Nova, 3 Killarney, 3 Joan J, and one each Brandywine and Royalty. Raspberries are a luxury fruit. A freshly picked, fully ripe raspberry is a delicate treat that does not travel well. On the positive side, once established they require little care, at least in our climate.
Raspberry freezer jam made with raspberries you grew and picked yourself is one of life's finer treats. Throw in a three-egg omelet made with lots of extra-sharp cheddar cheese, ham sliced thick and fried in a cast-iron skillet and toast made from thickly sliced, home-made bread and you have some good living!
Fishing report
I saw a Bald Eagle drop out of the sky and pluck something from the surface of the lake. Neither Shotgun nor I caught anything.
Biden, battered in the polls by the left, waffled and wavered and finally declined to not send Israel additional precision munitions.
If one, small precision bomb could have done the job, will Israel now use 6, larger bombs with the accompanying increase in collateral damages?
If a precision bomb can hit a moving vehicle known to be carrying a "high-value" target will Israel now revert to leveling entire blocks to accomplish the same end?
It seems to me that there is a very high probability of perverse outcomes.
“Sue-prize! Sue-prize! Sue-prize!” Deputy Canina said in her best Gomer Pyle voice.
She had just gotten a call about a party who wanted to report a stolen vehicle just two hours after she had overseen a vehicle winched onto the flat-bed of a wrecker, not more than two miles from where the call originated.
The caller was not able to tell the 9-1-1 operator the street address but the GPS coordinates that read out on her center-mounted computer placed it just about where the “Amish” people lived.
“Well, that should be interesting” Canina thought.
This time, the boulder in the middle of the drive had been removed and she was able to navigate her cruiser up to the top of the plateau and she parked in the middle of a turn-around loop. She did not have to wait long before a woman who appeared to be wearing nothing more than a very large, man’s tee-shirt and flip-flops showed up.
A weedy looking man poked along behind her as if he had no desire to interact with the police. He was wearing pajama bottoms and dollar-store flip-flops. They were definitely not dressed for the sixty degree temperatures and the intermitent mists.
Canina ran down her window. “Did you report a stolen vehicle?” Canina asked.
“Yes. And I know who stole it and you need to arrest him!” the woman’s voice grating like fingernails an a chalkboard.
Canina had long ago come to the conclusion that most people had the voice they deserved, that strident, dissonant speaking voices were cultivated at a subconscious level.
Another thing that got Canina's back "up" was that she did not like to be told what to do. “First, I have to take a report and gather information.”
When people pushed her buttons Canina had learned to follow policy as exactly and as precisely as she had been taught at academy. Maybe even MORE precisely. It gave her something to focus on rather than her visceral reaction to “the public” she had been sworn to serve.
Canina ran up her window and reported her location. Then she turned off the cruiser. She slowly and meticulously gathered up all of the items she would need to collect the information. A wicked thought seeped into her mind...Miss Shrieky Voice really would have a chance to chill.
Stepping out of the cruiser, Canina asked the woman’s name and asked if she had any ID. “Darcy Johnson...and my ID is in my car.”
Canina nodded her head and slowly tapped on the touch-pad. “Just got this and I am getting used to it” she said trowelling on the “hick” voice. What she said was totally true. It was a 4th Gen, fully integrated law-enforcement “tough” computer full of proprietary software. While it wasn’t bullet-proof, it was bullet-resistant and would slow most pistol bullets down enough such that penetration would be limited to 2”...enough for a couple of weeks off work or so the tech-rep joked.
“Can you hurry it up?” the man asked. "Its freezing out here."
“Make and model” Canina drawled out, voice as slow and thick as syrup.
“It is a Jeep Liberty” Darcy said.
“Year?” Canina asked.
“2002” Darcy responded.
Canina was 99.9% sure she knew exactly where that vehicle was but she would get to that in her own, sweet time.
“Where did you last see your vehicle?” Canina asked as she slowly read down the list of questions.
The man stood behind Miss Johnson and wrapped his arms around her, pulling the now-damp tee-shirt tight, presumably to stay warm. As Canina had guessed, that was all she was wearing.
“There he is. Arrest him!!!” Darcy shrieked, exitedly pointing at a middle-aged man who was walking between a couple of the dilapidated houses. Canina looked up and saw a lean, deeply tanned man of below average height. He shot her a quick glance and kept walking. His clothing was plain and showed signs of wear and careful patching.
“Why do you think he stole it?” Canina asked, curiosity having gotten the better of her. “Did you see him do it?”
Something didn’t add up. A couple of urban slut-puppies lodging with the Amish? That went together like oil-and-water and as a cop she didn’t like those kinds of riddles.
“I didn’t have to. He told us to leave and when we refused, he said ‘then we will take care of it.’” Darcy said.
“Why didn’t you leave if you weren’t wanted here?” Canina asked.
“We have a lease. I want to show it to you. Then you have to arrest him” Darcy demanded.
Canina knew that Darcy was lying. Her training officer had drilled into her that when somebody starts giving you way more detail than is strictly necessary then they are hiding something or trying to ‘prove’ a lie to you. Canina didn’t know exactly what Darcy was lying about, but she knew it was something.
Best to play dumb. Nobody ever expected cops to have a brain.
Canina slowly reached up and started slowly scratching her scalp like she needed to in order to think.
“Well, I been trained that my job is to catch criminals and not get involved in civil law. Your gonna have to get a lawyer and take him to court iffen you got problems over your lease” Canina advised Darcy.
“But I’m thinkin’ that if you file in this county, the judge is gonna wanna know why you and that fella signed a lease iffen he was just gonna turn around and throw you out?” Canina pointed out. “Maybe youl’d be better off filing it in whatever city you came from.”
“That doesn’t matter” Darcy evaded. “He stole my car and you have to arrest him!”
"What is your address...." Canina kept to her script. "And where did you live before that..."
Finally, Canina decided to stop playing around. Darcy’s lips had turned blue and the Joshua's teeth were chattering. Yes, she had collected his info, too.
“Is the license plate of your Jeep KMG-8279?” Canina didn’t have to reference her notes. One thing that you quickly pick up in law enforcement is the ability to memorize a dizzying number of license plate numbers.
“Maybe. I don’t know” Darcy said. “I might have a picture on my phone. I don’t know. Why?”
“I am pretty sure your vehicle was towed by Snider’s Towing and is sitting in their impoundment lot in Dayton” Canina said.
Darcy perked right up. “Hey, can you give us a ride to go pick it up?”
Canina vigorously shook her head. “Nope. Against policy. You are going to have to call an Uber or something.”
“Do you have the number for Snider’s?” Darcy asked.
“Just use your phone. S-N-I-D-E-R-S in Dayton, T-N” Canina said.
Before Canina drove around the loop to get her cruiser pointed down the drive toward the public road, she called in to the station. Something was tweaking her intuition. There were just too much parts that didn’t seem to fit together.
“Hey, what can you tell me about the white, Jeep Liberty KMG-8279?” Canina asked the impoundment clerk.
“We got some hits on the license plate from the National Crime database. The vehicle was involved in several ATM smash-and-grabs in Nashville and Huntsville” Cindy told her.
“Do tell” Canina replied.
“The Sheriff said that he’d appreciate it you had some time to do a little bit of digging around. The perps might still be in the neighorhood” Cindy added, helpfully.
Everybody liked to stay on the Sheriff’s good side and Canina owed him a solid. He had tipped her off about the 14' jonboat that had been a late-addition to the County's confiscated property auction. Canina was the only bidder and she had picked it up for a song.
“I just might be able to help you out” Canina replied. “I am going to live-stream on channel 37. If things go froggy I damned well better have some help showing up speedy-quick.”
And then before Cindy could reply, Canina muted the audio-speakers and opened her door.
Shouting at the backs of the couple who were shuffling, zombie-like, toward one of the greenhouses, Canina yelled “I just talked to the Sheriff and he told me to give you a ride into town. He reminded me that we are supposed to protect and SERVE.”
Darcy smiled at Joshua and said “Told you these fncking hicks would help us out.”
As they neared the running cruiser, Canina asked "Don't you need to get a key?"
"Nope" Darcy said. "I have a secret key taped to the inside of my gas door."
“Sheriff said you gotta ride in back but first I gotta give you a quick frisk to make sure you aren’t carrying any weapons” Canina shrugged. “Insurance regulations.”
It was a very quick frisk. They just weren’t wearing much that could conceal a weapon.
They settled into the back, so grateful for the heat blasting out of the vents they barely noticed the smell of old vomit and urine.
Was slavery doomed as an agricultural production method?
Maybe the first American Civil War was not necessary for slavery to end. Perhaps there were other factors in-play that made its ending a foregone conclusion. If not in the early 1860s but certainly by 1880.
Mechanization was making farm labor more productive so fewer workers were needed. Ditto for improved varieties and better understanding of fertilizers.
Tobacco and cotton were being produced in places like India and Egypt and Turkey in increasing amounts.
Various pests, like the boll-weevil would reduce the profit margins of cotton.
Like the Thanksgiving Turkey, the entire edifice was largest and most "magnificent" just before it was slaughtered. In 1860 it was inconceivable to those in the middle of the institution, whether owner or slave, to understand that not only was it going to end but that it was an inescapable conclusion.
It was cheaper to release the slaves and let them fend for themselves rather than to hang onto them and eat the fixed-cost.
College education and salary-man
I was in one of those awkward social situation where I looked for an escape. There! Outside...a patio. There was a couple out there also seeking solitude and quiet.
I struck up a conversation with the gentleman. He was a Senior Advisor to a firm engaged in supplying professional services. I asked him what a Senior Advisor does.
He responded that the part he liked best was mentoring new, unseasoned employees.
During the course of the conversation he informed me that it was common practice among the newer hires to cut-and-paste from Wikipedia or to have AI write reports. He was aghast. The firm is charging $300 an hour (or more) for their services and they are submitting 6th-grade work. No synthesis. No integration. No probable-path projections. No counter-measures specific to the client's unique challenges and resources.
The clincher is "If that level of work is 'good enough', then why do we even need Professional people? The plumbers and school administrators and clergy who rely on our services can cut-and-paste from Wikipedia a whole lot cheaper than we can do it for them. If they need more, we can hire a stenographer to type the keywords into the AI engine with fewer typos than somebody with a Master's degree."
The kindest, most generous perspective is that AI can be used as a no-guilt way to terminate unproductive or redundant knowledge-worker's position. "Sorry Karl, we had to let you go. You can blame AI."
Shumard Oak (Tennessee seed-source), pecans, Northern Red Oak (Ingham County, Michigan seed-source) were the three major seed-lots I got planted today.
I also planted 12 pots of Okra and a bulk planting of a mixed-lot of grape seeds, primarily open-pollinated Steuben but also some open pollinated (V. riparia L-50s X Trebbiano). The V. riparia is from Minnesota and has sweet fruit. Trebbiano is one of the most widely planted winegrapes in Europe.
There is a lot of by-guess-and-by-golly with regards to open-pollinated grapes. The Steuben is probably self-pollinated and most of the V. rip X Treb were probably pollinated by wild V. riparia or GR-7 winegrape.
Tomorrow, God willing, I will finish out the small-lots of acorns, pecans, walnuts and hickory nuts.
Time for a wee-libation of grog.
---Added later---
Phenology report, 325 GDDb50. Chokecherries and Autumn Olive are blooming. Timothy (grass) is pollinating and my sinuses are getting angry.
I planted a forty foot long row (500 seeds) of Black Locust. My intention is to thin them out to one stem every two or three inches.
"But Joe, why would any sane person plant a 'weed-tree' like Black Locust?"
Primarily because it grows like a weed and when juvenile it has thorns that deter Whitetail Deer.
It is the most widely planted forestry tree in many areas in eastern, central and southern Europe. It grows very quickly. The heartwood is extremely, hard, wear-resistant and rot-resistant without any treatments. The flowers make good honey. Many of the trees from selected seed-lots produce a high percentage of trees with tolerable form.
It does NOT do well in places where flooding is likely.
It is a tough tree that does relatively well in tough situations. It is good to have many different tools in your tool-box and Black Locust is a tool that fills a particular niche very, very well.
Black Locust seeds have an impermeable seed-coat. One way of degrading that seed-coat is to dump the seeds into boiling (212F) water for 60 seconds and stir. Then to add cool water to bring the temp to about 100F and let them soak for four hours.
Before and after pictures
April 6
Approx April 20
Mixed peppers on left, Ukrainian Orange Icicle on right
Like many fellow sufferers of Seasonal Tourette Syndrome, my symptoms flare up in late spring.
I am taking the usual precautions. I shaved my head and beard. I am wearing brightly colored clothing and I am avoiding people who are sensitive to random cussing.
It helps me manage the symptoms but doesn't really address the root causes of the cussing and the ticks.
I am about a week behind in the gardening. There are only so many days when the sun shines in May. My body can only be pushed so hard. Sometimes motorized equipment doesn't want to start or is "down" for maintenance.
During tick season, Mrs ERJ often mutters "You need to have your head examined", consequently the removal of my above-the-neck pelt.
The second installment on "Grifters" will be delayed.
If you are closely following the solar and wind-energy stories, then you have undoubtedly heard about "grid instabilities". As the percentage of non-central power-plant contribution goes up, risk of "grid instability" increases exponentially.
A relatively small, stand-alone grid centered in Alice Springs, Australia goes unstable at 13% "Green" energy make-up.
60 Hz, Alternating-current
In the US and in Canada, the standard "line voltage" for in-house appliances is 60 full, sinusoidal variations in line voltage every second with the peak voltage nominally between 155V and 175V with an Root Mean Square voltage of 110V to 125V.
In Europe, the frequency is 50 Hz.
The technical problem is that solar cells produce DC power...that is, no reversals in voltage. Wind power can produce alternating current but it is freakishly difficult to match it to the demands of the grid so it is usually converted to DC and then chopped up and flipped around to feed it into the grid.
The least expensive way to convert DC into AC that matches up with the grid is to reference the voltage of the grid and then to "trigger" off of it.
The grid is huge and robust and highly buffered by its loads(inductive) and line(resistance) characteristics. But, at some point the energy injected into the grid starts to jack around the voltage that is triggers when the "green" sources push energy (120 times a second) into the grid.
A complication is that the grid, as an electro-physical reality, can store energy in several modes: Capacitive and inductive. That can creates internal dynamics that can cause resonance and escalating excursions especially when simple, "step" or "impulse" (on-off) inputs are applied.
Another complication is that there might be learning-algorithms incorporated into the logic. The intent would be to make them universal in the sense of not caring if they were sent to a 50Hz grid or a 60Hz grid. Chaos and drift are not your friend when you have an energetic friend dumping power to your grid.
An obvious work-around would be to have a master-clock similar to GPS setting the timing for the (now) disjunct parts of the system. The problem is that we know that GPS can be hacked. Hacking the master-clock signal has the potential to melt wires and/or maybe short out transformers.
I was outside by 8:00 and grafted some plum suckers to AU-Rosa.
I moved my tomato and pepper seedlings outside. The weather-guessers threw the chicken-guts and determined that it would alternate between hazy and overcast. For once, they were right.
I sprayed weeds in the orchard and yard.
I had an errand to run in town that took a half hour.
By 10:30 it was almost dry enough to mow. I set the alarm on my phone for an hour from when I started. When the alarm went off I finished whatever chore I was doing. I went inside and drank some ice-tea. Read my emails...Lather, rinse, repeat.
For the record, I am using a push-mower. No need to go to the gym on days when I mow.
I had another errand at 4:00 so I knocked off a little bit early and took a shower and put on fresh clothes. Part of the errand involved grocery shopping. I was back by 5:30 and I AM DONE FOR TODAY.
The first few mowings of the year are a chore. There are always things that need to be picked up and the grass is growing like greased lightning. I still haven't made it completely around the house. The grass on the north side doesn't grow very fast which I am thankful for.
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