I'm a cedar rat and I'm okay...

Finally got around to completing the sink drain for the Secret Lair...

I've had the parts to do this for a couple of months, I think. But as soon as I got them I lost all my water, and for a while it made more sense to drain the sink into a big bucket so I'd have something to flush the toilet with. Then inertia set in, but I figured I'd better finish the damned thing because this gorgeous weather isn't going to last forever. So I spent considerable time under the cabin today, laying pipe. Then more time covering it up in the trench to the ditch I dug years ago, draining the gully behind the cabin when it rains. So far that ditch has worked pretty well keeping water from washing under the cabin.

Then it was time to do something about the stovewood supply, which has gotten kind of low...

It's not that I don't have wood, because I haul wood in once or twice a week. But it does have to be cut to size.

So to work we go.

And about an hour and a half later, there's a good week's worth. More, if it stays nice. Which can't be counted on.

There's a $1000 price on your head in Newark...

As Unc says, "What could possibly go wrong?" Wasn't planning to go there anyway...

The answer is Yes.

This is a question I wish people didn't think they have to ask. Unfortunately, under the circumstances it was a very important question.

"I've got two guns in my hand. Is it OK to shoot him if he comes in this door?" asked McKinley, 18.

Now, at this point I'm supposed to get all snarky and anti-sheeplike-behavior, because that's my gig. But let's face it, it's a very important question. The lady's on the phone with a police dispatcher. Having already taken that step, the answer to the question is equally important. It's life and death. The jackass who's trying to break in brought a knife to a gunfight: He's not that big a problem as long as she's got the cojones to pull the trigger. (Which, by the way, she did.) But the next visitors she gets might be wearing armor and carrying rifles, and have even less compunction about killing her. History is very clear on this point. So yeah, the question is important. And so is the answer.

The answer she got, frankly, shocked me.

"Well, you have to do whatever you can do to protect yourself," dispatcher Diane Graham responded. "I can't tell you that you can do that, but you do what you have to do to protect your baby."

Now, at this point I'm supposed to get all snarky and anti-cop, because that's my gig. And no doubt in some other jurisdiction she'd have received a completely different answer. Can you imagine those words coming from the mouth of a Chicago PD dispatcher? Because I can't.

The dispatcher told HLN's Jane Velez-Mitchell on Wednesday she learned in training that she could not tell a caller to shoot someone, "(but) as a mother, I wanted her to protect her baby."

And I think that's very cool, and you're not going to hear that from me very much concerning somebody who works in a police station.

Then the story took a completely bizarre turn.

First Assistant District Attorney James Walters told CNN that McKinley will not be charged because she acted in self-defense.

"A person has the right to protect themselves, their family and their property," Walters said.

Wait. What? You're a DA! You're the guy I'm supposed to especially hate! You're supposed to make this poor, innocent woman's continued existence a living hell, for having the effrontery to defend herself with lethal force instead of being raped and murdered like a good little taxpayer! Tradition demands it! You're screwing with my understanding of the workings of the universe! What the **** is wrong with you?

Granted, again, this is Oklahoma City, a place I've lived near, and OKC has never been a good place to be a violent predator. But still - If I can't depend on cops and prosecutors to be despicable, what can I depend on?

This lady's encounter with the intruder, BTW, has a loverly happy ending...

Martin, 24, was found [dead as a doornail - J] between the door and a couch with a knife clutched in his gloved left hand, police said.

You go, girl. And kudos to the forces of law'n'order who decided not to be pricks that day.

Fixed it for you...

You wanna talk improvisation? I gotcher improvisation right here...

I've got lots of water and barely enough electrical power to run a laptop. Landlady's got lots of electrical power, and no water. Between us, we're a homestead.

My washing machine is still over at her place, there being no dreaming way it'd ever run at the Lair. And that was fine, until the last cold snap when her pressure pump puked a seal - again. So now, until we can get that fixed she's got no water. Since I installed that check valve last week I've got water out the whazoo but that doesn't help with this heap of dirty laundry, which I really must deal with while the weather's nice. Sure I could wash it by hand, but that's like Plan Z. Been there, done that, hate it.

So here's a lovely irony: I'm driving the Jeep back and forth, hauling water in bottles from the Lair to Landlady's place, where I don't even live anymore. Pour enough into the washing machine to get the cycle going, then load up the empties and go get more for the rinse. Did it yesterday for one load and I'll do it again this morning after the first load comes off the line.

Hey, it works. Whadaya want from me?

Uncle Murphy maketh his countenance to shine upon me...

Of all the days to have electrical problems. Sheesh, everything's been fine, at least during the day, and now every time I turn my laptop on the inverter squeals like a little girl...

Installer must have kicked something loose. In the morning when it warms up I'll go over the PV panel connections.

First the water, now this. I'm gonna track down that guy Murphy wherever he hides, and vomit right on his best shoes.

UPDATE: Wow. As somebody said, it looks like it was designed by Dr. Seuss. My wiring job, that is, which had pretty thoroughly fallen apart and I got too busy yesterday afternoon to even notice but it's no wonder I've been having power problems. The six little old panels are a temporary measure anyway, since I now have a single modern panel that's rated better than all of them combined, but I need a few other things before I can install it. Like a new charge controller, but never mind.

Anyway, I'm now getting power into the batteries again.

Back in the saddle!

This post is brought to you from The Secret Lair!

Oh, for Crying! Out! Loud!

Today they're supposed to move the satellite dish and modem again, and the drama has already begun. At least this time they didn't keep me waiting.

About half an hour ago I got a call from some guy who wanted to know "What's the problem you're having?" When I told him there was no problem, we needed it moved, he said, "Then why'd they write out a service ticket?" Like I'd know.

Five minutes later I got a call from some dispatcher, telling me the service guy would be late. I said don't send him on a service ticket, it's a waste of everybody's time. She said, not very convincingly, that she'd look into it.

Just now I got a call from the service guy, saying he'd be late. I said don't come at all if ... etc. He said he'd "see what he could do."

We've been trying to get this thing moved to the Lair for weeks. Maybe I should just forget the whole thing and get some semaphore flags.

The song in my head takes an educational turn...

I don't know why this happens. It's irritating.

I wake up with a song in my head, with no plausible clue how it got there. Often it's something I couldn't possibly have heard for years. Often - indeed, usually - I don't even know the lyrics. This one, for example: The best I could come up with was "Lead us not into temptation/Don't destroy our reputation/When we yield to carnal love." Pretty sure that wasn't right. On these occasions, YouTube is my friend.



Here, though, I learned that "The Browns," whom I don't recall ever having heard of, didn't write the song and it was by far not the only version recorded. In fact their version was a bit truncated. Here's the Andrews Sisters, who are just a bit before my time...



And the whole thing is based on some French song. Here's Edith Piaf, of whom I'd never have heard if it weren't for Saving Private Ryan, (hey, I'm an uneducated American mutt) with what may be the original, and most beautiful version. Damn, that woman had a voice. Can't understand a word she says, though...



I did not know that. Or care all that much, to be honest...

It's the end of the world as we know it...

Had a little treat last night...

Since it was Saturday and our weekender neighbors S&L were around, Ghost disappeared yesterday afternoon without notice. I figured he'd headed over there, and planned to call and verify that before dark. But when he vanishes without trace on a weekend, that's always where he goes.

Little Bear was on his cable outside enjoying the positively balmy afternoon, when around 4:30 he started barking like there was really something to get excited about. I came out of the Lair, and a minute or two later a pickup I didn't recognize came into the yard from the wash. This was unusual.

Unusual is often unwelcome, but in this case it turned out to be SurvivalDave, a rarely-seen neighbor who has a place between Landlady's and S&L's. He'd come up with a friend, and they'd decided to have a New Year's bonfire and wanted to know if I wanted to join them.

A bonfire? In December? I should point out that exactly one year ago last night, the temperature hit a 30-year low of 21 below zero.

What the hell: This time around the weather is almost preternaturally pleasant, and even with the clear sky it'd take a while to get too cold. I told them I'd be along, and even filled their pickup bed with a bunch of junk wood I'd hauled from J&H's place that was too twisted or fractured to make good stovewood, and not worth dulling a chain on. It's fine for a bonfire.

Normally, when it gets dark, the boys and I cocoon inside till morning. So LB was a bit unnerved to get a Jeep ride after dark, and to tell the truth he wasn't any too crazy about being close to the big fire or in the presence of masculine strangers. But he did enjoy the cheese and meatballs, and we sat around yarning and drinking wine until about nine when S&L showed up with their daughter and grandkids. I was getting tired and cold, and LB was getting antsy, so as soon as it was polite we said our goodbyes and headed back to the Lair. Poor LB racked right out, which indicated he'd found it a bit more stressful than he'd let on at the time, and he let on that it was kinda stressful. It's easy to be a hermit's dog, unless he has to go somewhere and not be a hermit for a while. Poor guy - but I had a good time.

LED bulb review

To show you how lame I am, I have no idea what the "wattage" rating is for this monstrous thing. Or the price. Or much of anything, except that this is the smaller of two sizes, it's not quite bright enough to read by, and it seems to require about as much juice as a CFL that is. At least that's what my inverter tells me.

The bigger size is physically much larger, making it impossible to fit in a standard light fixture. It needs to be bigger, since it just contains a whole bunch more LEDs. If this is the best the industry can do, CFLs are in no danger.

Ironically, this one gives off a blue-ish light that's a bit jarring to eyes grown accustomed to CFLs. And that's coming from a guy who spent some time bitching about the quality of CFL light.

Happy new year, California!

Your faithful servants in Sacramento are hard at work, For Your Protection! Hope you've got your preteen-sized booster seat, 'cause as of today it's the law. And hundreds of other things, for which ignorance will, from today forward, be no excuse.

I suppose I should be honored...

...It's the first time anybody's paid attention to my ass in a long damn time. Unfortunately it's the wrong gender, not to mention the wrong species.

Comet the colt has a new trick - he likes to bite you on the ass. It's not just people, either. Visioness the big mare wants him dead. One of her favorite resting places involves pushing her rump against the fence between her enclosure and Comet's, and Comet thinks it's funny to sneak up and bite her. A few days ago, I'm told, she got through the gate in the fence and tried very sincerely to thank him for that good and hard. Fortunately H, who had very briefly left the gate unlatched, was there to rescue him.

So today I'm in his pasture shoveling shit, right? And Comet - who has become much less shy in the past couple of months, comes over to say hi. And we bump noses, and I stroke his neck, and then he sidles off to one side and reaches around behind me with his long neck, aiming his teeth for my ass. I was forewarned, though, and he didn't think it was right when I spun around and smacked his nose. He tried sneaking up on me a couple more time, but subtlety isn't his strong suit and he never came close.

Never turn your back on a horse, even a little one, unless you know it very well. Even then you're taking a chance. Their idea of fun can cost you skin, and that's the patch I sit on.

Just Because...

Acknowledgement of care packages

I got busy and forgot to mention it, but yesterday I got an email from the lady who handles my mail drop telling me that I have two care packages, one from Claire and one from Donkeybuster. I don't know what's in them because I won't see them for another two weeks or so, but just so you guys know - your packages did arrive safely and will get to me in the fullness of time.

Thanks!

It's too late to worry now!

The building has left Elvis!

And for the first time in - well, basically, ever - Landlady's property is trailer-free.

Every day in every way, I'm getting civilizeder and civilizeder.

A brace of red-letter days!

Yesterday I got back to the Lair late. After installing the new check valve in M's well pump outflow pipe and (hopefully) fixing the system, I met with the fellow who's helping me haul off the Interim Lair to parts unknown. The boys and I got back to the (permanent) Lair a bit later than usual, and while hanging up my coat I happened to notice that the level in the toilet's (did I mention I have a flush toilet? It hasn't flushed under its own power lately, but it's really there) bowl was up to regulation level, which it definitely hadn't been in the morning after I "flushed" it with dirty dishwater. As far as I know the only way to raise the level in a vessel of water without reducing the vessel's depth or diameter is to add water. If water had been added, this meant that ice plug I mentioned earlier had broken up.

Giddy with excitement - yes, I'm easily excited - I took the three steps to the sink, lifted the valve toggle, and ... AGUA! I mean it didn't even spurt, just flowed like nothing had ever been wrong. Wondrous! This morning on the way to Landlady's property I stopped at the cistern and measured the level. It's right at the level where I last measured it, a little before three in the afternoon. So it must have bled back a little overnight, but "normally" it would be just about dead empty. So my new check valve is working, and it looks like we have a fix.

This morning - any minute now, in fact - I expect a call from The-Guy-Who's-Taking-The-Interim-Lair-Away. Unless something goes horridly wrong thereafter, between us we will make one of Landlady's fondest dreams come true. No, not the one involving Daniel Day-Lewis. The one where her property contains not one single RV trailer.

Just barely making the deadline, too, I'll have you know.

Wow, design fail.

Yesterday I spent nearly four hours catching up on my shit-shoveling, after the snow/cold of the weekend. Four hours of wading through mud so I could pry horse shit out of ice, since the ground thawed everywhere except where there was horseshit. No doubt the real explanation is that where the ice had thawed, the horses pretty much trampled everything into the mud, which then had to be raked and forked into the wagon. Half a dozen trips to the manure pile - uphill, of course - with a wagon filled with mud and ice chunks. Fun times. But I kept at it and now that part of my life is done with.

I was rewarded, as I got ready to go, by an unexpected burst of good karma. J said, "Hey, tomorrow morning I'm going to (the town that has the plumbing supply shop I need). You still need to go?"

Why yes, I did. So this morning I met him, we drove out there, and when I told the guy at the counter what I needed he didn't even blink. The stuff I needed wasn't even out of stock! Incredible! Zip zam, I had the valve and all the needed fittings in my hand.

Got home, grabbed a screwdriver and a hacksaw and a teapot full of hot water, headed up to the pumphouse. When I cut through the flexible pipe I saw part of our problem right away: water came gushing out of the hose from the cistern. I expected some, but wow - I do believe the flow rate in the wrong direction exceeds the flow rate from the pump. There's got to be some serious back-pressure against that pump.

Be that as it may, the cistern is filling on this succession of sunny days we've been having. Not fast, but it's filling. And now there's a nice brass check valve in the line coming out of the well, so the water that gets to the tank will stay in the damned tank overnight.

I checked the flow at the spigot outside the Lair. It belched and gurgled and filled a bottle with water the color of coffee, which told me the ice plug at the base of the cistern has melted. After about ten gallons it started running clear and hard, but I've still got nothing inside the cabin. Opened the drain spigot under the cabin and got nothing, which tells me the line coming up from the ground is still frozen. I'll put a hose on that valve and set it to drip, and hopefully that'll break it up since the weather for the next couple of days is supposed to get quite warm. Today it's almost too warm for a light jacket, in the sun.

We're getting there. But I think in the spring we should look at relocating the supply line to the top of the cistern instead of the bottom, since at the bottom the damn thing still freezes.

Y'know, I was just wondering about these guys, ...

When Preparing Your Family gave me a link...

TSA screenings aren't just for airports anymore

Rick Vetter was rushing to board the Amtrak train in Charlotte, N.C., on a recent Sunday afternoon when a canine officer suddenly blocked the way.

Three federal air marshals in bulletproof vests and two officers trained to spot suspicious behavior watched closely as Seiko, a German shepherd, nosed Vetter's trousers for chemical traces of a bomb. Radiation detectors carried by the marshals scanned the 57-year-old lawyer for concealed nuclear materials.

When Seiko indicated a scent, his handler, Julian Swaringen, asked Vetter whether he had pets at home in Garner, N.C. Two mutts, Vetter replied. "You can go ahead," Swaringen said.

This is the LA Times, which isn't exactly the Daily Freedomista, and even they can't take VIPR seriously. But DHS has political turf to protect: Those budgets don't increase themselves, you know! At least, not enough to suit a bureaucrat.

"We are not the Airport Security Administration," said Ray Dineen, the air marshal in charge of the TSA office in Charlotte. "We take that transportation part seriously."

The TSA's 25 "viper" teams — for Visible Intermodal Prevention and Response — have run more than 9,300 unannounced checkpoints and other search operations in the last year. Department of Homeland Security officials have asked Congress for funding to add 12 more teams next year.

And even the TSA admits this isn't doing a damn bit of good...

TSA officials say they have no proof that the roving viper teams have foiled any terrorist plots or thwarted any major threat to public safety. But they argue that the random nature of the searches and the presence of armed officers serve as a deterrent and bolster public confidence.

Serve as a deterrent to what, exactly? Terrorists? The only people at Amtrak stations who seem to hate America are the Amtrak execs. If they ever go to train stations. And bolstering public confidence there would be better served by getting a few of the trains to run on time, clearly an impossible task.