There’s just something satisfying about using a propane torch to burn weeds growing up through the cracks and seams in the concrete.

I may have to explain my methods to the neighbors, though.

To them, I was a 50-something year old schlub wandering around his driveway with a propane tank and a wand with a bell-shaped end on it, muttering to himself.

To me, I was going from bunker to bunker in Normandy, giving the Huns exactly five seconds to throw their hands up and surrender before I burned them out.

I may or may not have stated, at medium volume, on several occasions – “Any plant that runs is a weed. Any plant that doesn’t run is a well disciplined weed.”

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Note to self – read the label of the dog shampoo before using it.

Ancillary note – when the ‘shampoo’ doesn’t foam up while bathing the shaggy, 85 pound Labrador, don’t just add more ‘shampoo’ in a vain attempt to get the dog clean

Tertiary note – if, after all that work, the dog looks like the bass singer in ShaNaNa, it’s time to just rinse him as well as you can and go to the store for more real shampoo. You’ve used half a bottle of conditioner, so hes just going to be extra shiny and slick for a while

Poor Moonshine is going to look like the Maybelline model’s little sister who got into her big sister’s hair goop for a few days.

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The other day, I advised my wife to acquiesce her decolatage.

She was not impressed. This may be my last transmission.

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The other morning, I drove into downtown Louisville for a doctor appointment. It was like Day 2 of the zombie apocalypse down there, but without the John Williams soundtrack playing in the background.

It was 6:30 am and still dark out. Random folks who were definitely not using 10% of available CPU were shambling around in no particular direction. There were more than a few whose cheese was definitely on a sideways trajectory from their cracker.

Two junkies were having a dance off on the corner right after I got off the highway. Everybody was kung-fu fighting, and it looked quite exciting.

How did I know they were junkies, you ask? Well, they were screaming at each other about a stolen needle loud enough that I could hear it over my podcast.

Two blocks down, some poor soul was doing the one leg still, one leg doing the jig/watusi, while he waved around his blankie at traffic. I actually felt bad for this guy. He obviously needed somebody to come get him before he got hit in traffic.

I really hope that the multiple people I saw laying down under blankets on the sidewalks were asleep. Thank goodness the weather has been rather mild, because being that deeply unconscious when exposed to the elements, hot or cold, is not good for you.

Somebody either put out some stuff thats too pure, or it’s adulterated with something really nasty.

It’s wasn’t as bad as Oakland in ‘89, but it’s not far off. No comment as to why I know how bad Oakland was at the height of the crack epidemic.

I finished my business, programmed the mobile magic elf box to direct me to my fast food breakfast of choice (a habit I picked up as a child. I was good at the doctor, so I deserved a treat), and got the heck out of Louisville.

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Maggie, the little black pup that isn’t so little anymore, is settling in quite nicely. She is now taller, but not quite as long, as Sophie the Faux Dachshund, and is quickly closing in on Ellie, the American DerpHound.

Both of her sisters seem to have accepted her, and play “I chase you, now you chase me” in the yard, the living room, and the basement. They especially like playing in the basement, as it’s one big room with stairs forming an island in the center. It makes the best canine track in the county.

Moonshine, the hound emeritus, has not accepted the puppy as much. Maggie has learned to just leave him be, stay the heck away from his food, and to not chase her sisters over the top of him while he’s trying to nap.

Maggie enjoys going for rides in the car, mostly because there may be french fries on the agenda. She has a perfect record of looking dangerously cute and starving every time we go through any drive-up window.

I swear, every woman we meet, and a few of the men, gets all squeaky and baby-talky when they see her. She is always gentle and loving when given a treat, making sure to give kisses on command to anyone with a biscuit or pup cup. When I give her a treat, I risk having my fingers degloved, but when the teenager working at the Circle K does it, she gets her hand kissed.

One of the roles I play in my marriage is to be the voice of reality when I feel it’s needed.

Irish Woman, being the sensible lady she is, has really gotten into the whole disaster preparedness thing. She’s not hoarding ammo (that’s my job), but she has really gotten into gardening and food preservation, as well as basic first aid and things like that.

Somehow, she’s also gotten onto some rather odd mailing lists. She gets some… interesting articles about health, food, and other subjects every so often.

So, it wasn’t that suprising when she sent me a link to an article about preparedness for nuclear fallout.

Being the loving husband I am, I sent her a gentle reminder that there are some disasters that just aren’t worth worrying about, given our circumstances.

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My sweet wife,

In the event of a general nuclear war, fallout is the least of your worries.

We live less than 50 miles from Fort Knox, 60 miles from Cincinnati, 30 miles from SDF, and less than 10 miles from major crossing points on the Ohio River.

Fort Knox, Louisville, and Cincinnati are all first or second strike targets.  We’re within the area where badly aimed Russian, Korean, or Chinese warheads would hit.  If the unthinkable happens, we will likely either die in the initial attack or soon after from radiation.  

https://nuclearsecrecy.com/nukemap/

On a happy note, when that “Head to the local defense shelter we stopped taking care of 30 years ago” message comes across, we can finally pop the cork on that bottle of champagne I saved at the wedding.  Might as well live a little, you know.

Happily yours,

Your darling husband

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No offense to her, but someone who literally grew up in the middle of a Minuteman missile field really doesn’t get all jumpy about what’s going to happen in the weeks following a nuclear war.

The puppy continues to grow at a heretofore unseen rate.

This morning, she took a calculated risk and tried to wrestle her full-grown brother, Moonshine.

Man, is she bad at math. She has gone back to the minor leagues for a little more seasoning, and is currently playing ‘catch me, catch you’ with her smaller sisters.

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The septic system service company I called this morning uses tango as their hold music.

For some reason, that made me happy.

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25 Boy Scouts, with about the same number of family and guests, when split between two sheet cakes, three fruit trays, two vegetable trays, four sandwich trays, two gallons each of lemonade and iced tea, and a large tray of chicken fingers, leaves one fruit tray, a quarter of a vegetable tray, one quarter of a sheet cake, and three sandwiches as leftovers.

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We are well into the first false fall of the year. We had lows in the 60’s last night, and it was cool enough that I put on a long-sleeved shirt when I had my coffee on the deck this morning. Already, I have witnessed hoodies, sweaters, and lattes in the crowds that meander down my street every morning.

But fear not, dear reader. In a couple of weeks, we shall have the inevitable warm-up. Hordes of sweater-wearing, cappuccino slurping women shall melt into puddles of foundation and silicone on the very sidewalks of Louisville. Only the tags on their hair extensions and the DNA stuck in the glue of their fake eyelashes will mark who they were, causing a backup at the local forensic cosmetology labs.

The more short-sighted of these creatures will instantly revert to bikini tops and ripped jeans. These pour souls will be devestated when the weather flips again, going from sunny and warm to oh-my-Lord-where-did-I-put-that-poofy-parka overnight. The local news will be chock full of breathless reports of half-naked popsicles being found flash frozen to the sidewalks outside of wine bars and tattoo parlors.

In the end, only those who moderate their fashion swings will survive. Soon, it will be true spooky sweater season, when all of those napkins we’ve all be saying are dresses will go either into the closet for the winter or into the landfill for the remainder of the planet’s life.

In the meantime, I shall be sitting on my deck, sipping hot coffee or cold tea, depending on the weather, and enjoying watching the world go by.

Well, hamburger at the butcher shop is now $8 a pound. Steak is between $14 and $18 a pound, while bacon wrapped filets are $10 apiece.

I think we’re going to be eating a lot of chicken and hot dogs for the next few months.

Luckily, my darling wife has been hoarding hams and turkeys when they’ve gone on sale over the past few months. Guess what’s on the menu this weekend?

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While getting the ingredients to make nachos at Kroger today, I noticed that both jalapeno peppers and apple cider were on sale.

The jalapenos got washed, cut, and canned in dill pickle juice. Never made that before, so we’ll see how that turns out.

Two bottles of cider were mixed with some cinnamon and cloves, a little sugar, and several packets of pectin. The results were 12 half-pints of apple jelly and 4 pints of the same. Never made this before, either, so we’ll have to see how it set up after it cools down from the ‘boiling lava’ stage.

Tune in later for more ‘I gotta get cheap food put up now because these prices are merely stupid and will likely go up to immoral later” theater.

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Speaking of Kroger, they had a dozen roses for $8, so I splurged and got two dozen. They make the house look better, and their presense keeps my wife’s delicate hands from doing that whole ‘grasp the husband by the neck until color comes back to your vision’ thing.

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The lawn mower was finally delivered yesterday, running as good as new. I was going to give it a spin last night, but weather intervened. You see, I made the mistake of watering the garden yesterday while I had my coffee, which means that of course we got high winds and driving rain right around dinnertime.

Oh, well, this just gives the grass another day or so to grow.

Now that I think of it, the maple trees are starting to shed leaves. Going to be adding both green and brown to the lawn this week.