If It’s Winter, We’re up on the Roof

Tags

Iowa, life in the meadow, The Contrarian, winter, wood stoves

First let me say, nobody fell off the roof! It was calamitous, but no injuries were sustained. Mostly. That we know of yet. We hope.

Okay, let me start again.

Last year we had big problems with our wood stove–it commenced to smoke up the house to intolerable levels and the wood wasn’t burning much.  We figured the chimney was in need of a cleaning.

Our friend, Steve, had the equipment, so up on the roof he went and discovered that it was the cap that was all creosoted up and not letting the air out. We ditched the cap, and voila` the smoke cleared, the house warmed, and after some days of literally dousing the cap with gas and burning it, it was cleaned, and then replaced.

We started, a few days ago, having difficulty with the wood burning. Since there wasn’t much smoke, we thought the wood had gotten soaked by the rains. But it never seemed to dry. Finally, this morning, the Contrarian announced that it was back up on the roof.

I shuddered and shook my head. “NO! No way are you going up there on that roof. We just got 4 inches of snow and there is ice underneath that.”

“Look,” he said, “there really is no choice here. Either I go up there and take off the cap, or this will get worse and we will not only be smoked to death, we will be cold while doing it. So either support me, or continue to help me be scared. It’s not like I want to do it.”

“Okay,” I muttered.

To make a long story short, he climbed up, scooted to the chimney, pulled the cap, and got down with no difficulties. We walked back into the house and were heading to the living room, when whoosh, and bam, he was flat on his back, having had his work-booted feet go out from under him. His back took the brunt, and then his head.

So far, all seems well, except for a stiff neck. He’s using a heating pad to hopefully head off further stiffness. He wore work boots because they were lighter and thus easier to swing up onto the roof and back onto the ladder. If you’ve ever done this feat, you know it requires a certain throwing caution to the wind and just doing it. Alas the work boots aren’t made for walking on linoleum when snow packed.

Ain’t winter just grand?

Yeah, we got four inches of the white stuff. Over night. I got up early this morning and cleaned the back steps off, and went around and cleared off the bird feeder. The chickadees and Juncos were puzzled where their food was. I didn’t see they had brought any tiny shovels, so I figured to assist them with a broom.

We anticipated that this might be the case, since the weather guessers weren’t even willing to do much in the realm of guessing as to what we might get. Anywhere from two to six. Nice range. Meaning anywhere from no problem to no moving for us.

So yesterday I zoomed off to the grocery store and got the vittles for the balance of the year. Mostly I got the ham and some fingery foods for New Year’s Day. The Contrarian is scheduled for a physical therapy session on Monday, but we’ll cancel if we can’t get out, obviously. We will probably get some sense of that tomorrow.

I’m okay if we are socked in for a couple of weeks actually. I have plenty to do. I’ve got at least five books backed up for review, so I’m doing a lot of reading these days. I should get back to knitting but so far haven’t had the urge.

I have biscotti and truffles and chocolate coated peanuts, almonds,  pecans, and walnuts to make. I’m cooking a lot. I made 41 meatballs this morning, finishing them up after the roofing adventure. I’ve got sauce simmering on the stove. I’m looking forward to that!

All in all it’s been a good day, except for the Contrarian’s upending. Cozy, we are.

Lots of good movies in the can. We have another disaster movie to see. This one is called “Ice Quake”. We saw one last week about a comet which breaks off a chunk and hits in Alaska and throws off the pole orientation and threatens our cosmic ray shield. But a big old hydrogen bomb in the Mariana Trench saves the day. Destruction galore! It was better than we expected.  

Nothing is better than a good old disaster movie, except for really bad sci-fi movies from the 50’s or so.

Well, enough of my babbling. It’s on to bigger and better things!

What’s on your mind today?

This CAN Be Your Life!

Tags

Iowa, life in the meadow, snow, winter, wood stoves

You are surely tired of listening to me moan, and I am just as surely tired of having so much to moan about. After all, nobody every said that “life was a bowl of cherries.” You can ponder the meaning of that trite phrase, while I proceed to well, errrr, moan.

Just when you think it can’t get a lot worse, you betcha, it does. I related at least on Facebook that on the way out on the lane, we got stuck on Ash Wednesday, and had to hump our way back to the house, along most of the entire one half mile that we lovingly call our lane.

You would think that that would be enough. You see, nobody really “gets” why we are always claiming that we are “snowed” in. I mean, to most anybody, an inch is hardly a big deal when it comes to snow. But when it is blown across a couple of miles of open field, and suddenly slams into a tree line courtesy of a 25 mph wind, well, it ends up being more like eight for us.

So we called a local fellow, whom the Contrarian has known all his life, and arranged for him to come  over in the morning, and blow the snow elsewhere than the car width we needed to get free of the winter grip. We then enjoyed the evening, watching the Olympics. Famous last word, ENJOY.

I was wakened the next morning to “It’s seven, babe, you better stay in here, the stove is smoking a lot.” I cursed, and brought to mind Dorothy Parker, and got up to investigate the “fresh hell” that awaited. Indeed, a cloud of smoke hung in the living room and into the kitchen. The Contrarian was ensconced in his office with door shut. He looked glum.

“I have no idea what is wrong now, but it won’t stop smoking.” And indeed, it was bursting through the seams of the stove pipe at an alarming rate. Before long, I realized that such could not continue, and I opened the front door, got a floor fan, and started sucking it out into the meadow. That of course, cooled the room significantly since it was all of about 4 degrees outside. Balmy huh?

We finally opened the wickedly mean device, and started hauling out partially embered wood into the ash tray and carting it out and throwing it into the snow, listening to it sizzle. Well, it’s one way to melt snow I guess. Finally, having lost all its combustibles, the smoking stopped.

We waited. I sat at the kitchen table, with a room heater going, and drank coffee, and watched the top of the hill, ready to give the alert when Joe’s blower would send cascades of snow flying through the air. That didn’t happen until nearly 11 am. Then the Contrarian squeezed in beside him, and they returned down to the Bronco and unstuck it. Soon, transportation returned to the house.

A trip to another buddy, and we had an extension ladder and a chimney brush. Steve climbed up and got the cap off the chimney. “Crank it up Parker, get that fire going as hot as you can.” A wide open bedroom window was our means of communication. I stood outside and yelled in “Crank it up Parker”. . . well you get the idea. Soon the smoke was billowing out the chimney, the Contrarian crowed, “she’s drawing like a champ!” Dark smoke poured forth, and the cap, sitting on its side, on top, began to melt creosote which Steven scraped off in chunks.

After a good bit of this, he sent the roto rooter chimney brush down into the belly of the beast. That caused smoking to start again indoors, since the flue was now jammed with lots of soot. Off with the top, and clearing of that, all the while the doors are flung wide once more.

The cats have retreated to an icy cold bedroom, and look utterly ticked off at the whole affair. The dogs find the house finally nice and pleasant for them. I’m wondering why the West was ever settled, since this crap is totally unacceptable to any woman surely. There is a reason the dude said, “Go west, young man.” He did not say, “Go west, young woman.” Women know better. He’d have been hit with a parasol for sure.

Well, eventually, the creosote stopped running, and the stove continued drawing, and the heat exchange between outside and inside started to favor staying indoors for warmth once more. Steve returned home, nobody fell off the roof, and I escaped down the luge track to drive to Center Point, a nearby village. Actually village is too kind, its a sprawly town, with no decent “main street.” But it does have a McDonalds.

After all this fun, I was good for nothing but (hanging head in shame) fast food. So things are normal for the moment. And, wonder of wonders, praise be to God, and kick the can, things are still normal today. It’s warm, its not smokey, and I went shopping.

You see, there is another “inch” predicted tonight, and they are being very coy about the next system coming in Sunday through Monday. I think this is the winter that will never end, but if it does, well, I’m going to shake my fist proudly at having survived the unholy winter of  09/10.  Bragging rights are mine–I may have a t-shirt made.

In the meantime, anyone interested in 80 acres of real estate in Iowa? Fifty prime growin’ land, and thirty in meadow. Just tell yourself that the beauty outweighs the minor inconveniences you might face. Yeah, tell yourself  THAT, please.

Enough Already!

Tags

Humor, Iowa, life in the meadow, snow, winter

I wish it were only caffeine. Here in the meadow, we are used to a certain adversity that is just part and parcel (whatever that quaint phrase means) of living in rurality. I mean it’s not like McDonald’s is a block away; in fact, the nearest one is closer to ten miles away.

So it should come as no surprise (indeed I’ve related a sufficient number of nasty meadow incidents thus far) that another “wrath of God”, shitty luck, fate, clash of the Titans, would occur. This one brought me to the brink of a glimpse of insanity.  I do not jest!

I have concluded that I am good for about three catastrophes in a winter, and then I’m done. Prepare the straight jacket, fluff up the padded room, I have a reservation. Let’s go.

It started Sunday with a thoroughly wild-eyed, this must be a roller coaster, ride in and out, traveling to and from church. The melting had created a deep flow of slush that the bronco could barely traverse without much sliding and twisting. It was pretty much gun and go, and hope for the best, as I sailed over dell and over the farmer perhaps too. Have to wait till spring and look for a body.

By Wednesday, it had frozen up again, and the Contrarian went out to get wood, and then check the lane. The first blow landed as he was working to draw another limb free and over to the splitter. It fell in a way not anticipated, and onto the chain saw, bending the bar. End of cutting wood.

So, logically, the Contrarian proceeded to the hill, hopefully to  smooth down the frozen tundra and make a good path to get out to buy a new bar. Perfect confidence is derailed as he discovers that the lane has blown in for about fifty feet or more. He works with great difficulty to get enough traction to get up, and starts pushing it down this side. After about three times, he figures he’s got a good beginning and will finish in the morning.

After much work, he manages to work his way up the hill by going cross country through the meadow and emerging at the gate. He makes his way to the road, and is thinking that he can approach the drifted area easier from the other side. That works until, a tractor tire goes flat.

Now we are tractorless, sawless, and nearly woodless. I am frankly near hysteria here. Thoughts of freezing slowly to death plant themselves firmly in my cerebellum. I babble, I cry, I rant, I curse the gods of nature and consider offering a cat in sacrifice. We have after all, four. Shrug. . . .  well it was a thought, but I discarded it.

Days go by, Thursday afternoon, Friday morning, and I am getting panicky. We are using our few sticks judiciously, and running space heaters. In all actuality, it was quite warm most of the time. But nobody seemed home, and I became convinced that Troy Mills had been wiped from the map by some mysterious alien abduction. (Take me, take me! Please!)

Finally, contact is made with the outside world, but little in the way of help comes with it. I’m all in favor of calling anybody I can think of. (Call the Troy Store and ask them to put a note on their door: “Snow removal needed immediately! with phone number.) Later the Contrarian confesses that such a thing would never happen. “Why don’t you just prepare a sign that I can wear in town: INCOMPETENT HUSBAND.”

Okay, that maybe was going too far, but I’m a desperate woman. I’m wondering whether the movies about the Donner family are scheduled for broadcast anytime soon, and I think the Contrarian is sizing me up for a good roast, should the situation not improve quickly.

For two days, I spent the better part of the day off line, needing to keep the line open for a call of salvation from winter’s determined intent to kill us all. And my heart sank lower than a belly crawlin’ snake. It was a time of highs and lows, mostly the later, but we managed to buck each other up as needed, to get by.

Finally we get word, last night, that the Calvary has arrived, or at least is in town, and will saddle up in the morning and save us. Joe, has a gigantus tractor, enclosed cab, and the mother of all snow blower attachments. I can hear the sound of trumpets blaring, and I think a distant refrain of God Save the Queen, which I figured was my imagination.

Great plumes of snow sailed twenty feet in the air, and arced over the icy landscape. Superman in the usual winter garb of car-hards and yooper hat,  crested the hill and rolled down. The behemoth shook with pleasure as she spewed her last mouth of snow and snorted a hearty “YOU ARE FREE!”

Manly talk ensued, between the Contrarian and Joe with the usual handshake and highdeeho. Within moments the Contrarian was off to another friend to get a couple of armloads of wood and then off to the big city to secure bars and oil, more gas, and vittles. I guess I will make it to church on time after all.

So that is my tale. Funny how personal crap overcomes all the real tragedy in the world.  Looking back, it doesn’t seem it was all that bad, but it was scary at times. And wood working is going to be much harder now, without the tractor to pull logs. The bronco can fill in for that, given the location of the tree now being dismantled. The tractor can’t be dealt with until it warms up a good deal more, unless an air compressor is located and the leak is a slow one, in which case, he might be able to hobble around with it until Spring.

Such is life in the meadow. Not nearly as convenient as suburbia, but then, I doubt suburban stories can match the sheer drama of our ups or downs. Just know, that all is safe, and well once again. . . .though I must say, I am getting a bit old for all this drama. Town is starting to look good.

Of Passing Note

Tags

CPAC, evolution, GOP, life in the meadow, Michelle Bachmann, primates, right wing, Sarah Palin, Seafood salad, socialization, sociology, winter, World News Daily

And now for something completely different. . . .

Okay, so I won’t bore you with the whining about the weather. I would, but it seems like my pitiful condition won’t gain me much purchase on your sympathy, since nearly 70% of the nation is engaged in winter misery.

We got our four inches, and are awaiting the wind which will move it from places we don’t want it, to other places we don’t want it. We have wood in for days, and food, and well, you don’t ask for much more at this point.

Yesterday, now that was a different story. Tractor broke, and was fixed, and I went shopping for chain saw chains. . . . mmmmm, such fun. They I secured some groceries just to make the weekend more delightful. It was a busy, up and down emotional day, but ended on a good note.

And did I remember to say a big hurrah to the Iowa Hawkeyes for their glorious win in the Orange Bowl? How does a nationally recognized school manage to have a quarterback who can’t throw a pass? I dunno, but go ask Georgia Tech. They may have an answer.

***

I have to say, I’d love to creep into the mind of the folks at CPAC, who in preparing their wacko wingnut right convention, are inviting of course the ever popular among the wingees, Sarah Palin, but are thinking of barring the ever conspiratorially oriented World Daily News. We are not sure what standard disallows the online news “paper” that promotes a “Crisis Garden” for the coming Armageddon,  but is in a tizzy, wizzing  its pants at the opportunity to have Michelle Bachmann on the roster. I mean can you imagine? The queens of crazy–Sarah and Michelle on the same stage? I’m sure their will be orgasmic delight in the audience should they both breathe stage air at the same time.

***

For years, scientists thought that primates groomed each other out of social bonding and reconciling differences. It appears otherwise.

It seems they groom those members of the troop who they think they cannot win a fight against. Who would have thunk?

Remember this the next time you sit down in the barber chair or the hair salon. Your hairdresser is afraid of ya! That ought to count for something in your day.

***

Scientists have found the oldest vertebrate footprints. They belong to a tetrapod and are in the vicinity of 397 million years old.

This pushes the time line back a few mill. The animals apparently lived in shallow waters and came upon land through the mud flats.

This is a marine environment rather than a lake or stream one as previously thought.

No word on whether human prints were found near by, so I am forced to warn the “creationist” nutties to close their eyes, and stop their ears, lest they be confronted with this biblical blasphemy. You have been warned flat earthers!

***

These next two go down in the “I never would have guessed,” category.

Those engaged in scientific pursuit, tell us that the size of the spoon effects whether or not one gets the proper dosage of medicine. Well, you could have blown me over with a feather on that one!

I know this will be hard to believe, but parents who refuse to have their children inoculated against chicken pox, see a higher incidence of their children contracting that disease.

It just shocks the bejesus out of me to discover this.

I’m sure it will give you pause as well

***

Even though warned repeatedly, some of you undoubtedly decided to go ahead and make New year’s resolutions.

So, seven days in, no doubt some of you are already struggling. This just in from LiveScience— 5 tips to avoid failure!

Number one on the list is “don’t make too many resolutions. And number two is, choose your resolutions wisely. Okay. . . .

On that note, I’ll resolve not to read self help articles on keeping resolutions. That is not too many, and is certainly wise doncha think?

***

I’m not familiar with Golden Corral, but this Copycat recipe seems a perfect foil to winter blahs.

I mean, when you look out and realize that it will take three hours and 40 extra pounds of clothing to make you “ready” for outside, ya need to have something really scrumptious and decadent to eat right?

This recipe for Seafood Salad uses the artificial crab, which I don’t really like, but with mayo, the “off taste” may be hidden. And it sure cheapens the price for making this summery beachy kinda treat.

I think I may pick up the ingredients on my next shopping trip and give this a whirl.

I have some great northern bean soup on the fire, loaded with plenty of ham, along with some nice focaccia flavored with dried tomatoes and olives. I think it will be a snuggly meal for falling temperatures and growing winds. Stay in and stay warm!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Plugging the Holes

Tags

animals, blogging stats, fundamentalism, intelligence, Iowa, meatloaf, moral majority, personality, relgiious right, spring, winter

"First Kiss," by Ron Draine, Art.com

I have a bad habit of thinking, and so periodically, I have to post a lot of drivel, just to clear out the debris to make room. I tried using corks to plug up the oozing tidbits of extraneous info, but that both gave me a headache and increased my hat size a bit too much. People were starting to stare, if you get my drift.  So in no particular order:

Animals just continue to freak me out. It’s not just the variety and so many shapes and sizes, so many attributes and such. It’s the personality that, as I get older, gets more and more complex. I realize indeed that we human have just upped the ante a small bit, we are no great leap.

Take our dogs. No, no not literally. First we have Bear, the “A” dog.

Bear is a singular example of the dog in charge. He is willful and stubborn, yet level headed, basically quite kind, and he watches over the girly girl Brandy as any big brother ought to.

He is a stern task master, and during Brandy’s youth, she was tumbled and shaken a good many times until she properly learned the ways of a “B” dog.

Bear will behave, unless he doesn’t wish to. Then you get the blue eye, and well, it’s best to just back off and let it be. Brandy learned that freshly caught game was off limits, sometimes for days. Just because he wasn’t hovering over it didn’t mean she could take a close whiff.

Yet, dear Bear is monumentally afraid of thunder. Has been since day one. It must be embarrassing for him, yet he succumbs to the first rumbles and gets into the house fast, and lays close to any human. Brandy, heck you have to order her in the house. She could care less.

On  the other hand, Brandy has her own oddity.

When the Girly is asleep, everyone treads carefully and away from her. If she is even breathed upon, she erupts a snarling fang bearing behemoth, ready to kill.

All the cats, all the humans, and even the King, Bear, know this and respect it. Bear will even whimper to have help getting around her, should she fall asleep in some way that boxes him in.

In every other respect, Brandy is pure love. The tail never stops wagging, and she has yet to figure out that anyone has ever been mad at her. You can yell your fool head off, and she wags away. She pretends to not know the meaning of any word that would limit what she wants to do, but has an amazing vocabulary of words that symbolize things she likes.

Both are adept at going out alone, barking up a storm, thus enticing the other to come out, then coming in and grabbing the best seat in the house, their couch! Don’t tell me they aren’t smart.

***

I’m given to understand that the religious right is having some name pangs. Seems they can’t settle on how they would like to be addressed. For reasons that escape me, they don’t like being called fundamentalists, though that describes their religious theology quite well I believe. They don’t like  religious right either, again I’m not sure why. They do seem to like Christian Right. Not sure how that’s really different from religious right. They don’t like American Taliban and things like that. I can understand. I guess they have come to realize that the term “moral majority” is a bit presumptuous. They seem to have abandoned that one.  They don’t like extreme right, and well I guess I can see that.

I call them idiots. It seems descriptive to me. Sometimes I call them the wacko right, sometimes the wingnut right. But that is as much political as religious I guess. I guess I’d settle on Extreme Radical Religious Right. I’m sure they won’t like that either. But heck, I don’t find them sensible anyway so why should I care?

***

I’m puzzled as all get out at what has been happening here on this blog. One day I opened up the stats to discover that nearly 400 people had visited. That would be double the usual flow. I checked the forum here to see if there was a bug or glitch. No one else was reporting bizarre numbers, and seldom is a problem singular to A blog. I added another counter, and it is keeping pace as best I can tell.

I’m confused. The second day, it fell off a tad, but was still around 350. Yesterday it fell back to 175, respectable, but still a significant drop. I don’t know if I had some tag that just got picked up or what. I find the “key words” thingie most unuseful in figuring things out. Most of the terms used are artists for some reason, or weird bastardizations of phrases that make no apparent sense.

It’s one of those shrug the shoulders kind of things. Perhaps just more evidence of my universe shopping.

***

It’s cold here in Iowa again. Much too cold for me. I’m through with this chit and ready for spring. I don’t want to see a snow flake again. It would suit me if I never saw one again. That is unlikely as long as we live in Iowa of course.  Less than two weeks until spring by my calculations. March can’t come too soon, and I mean that in every respect. Of course it will come exactly on time no matter what I want or need.

***

It’s meatloaf today. I made up a big batch and will freeze one. I decided to cook both though. Figured it wasn’t a good idea to refreeze raw meat. It will come in handy one day when I don’t feel/have time to cook. The Contrarian loves meatloaf, more for the cold sandwiches afterward, but meatloaf means mashed taters and gravy, and well, if you read yesterday, you know about gravy.  Just a tip on the meatloaf: I don’t use filler in mine, but if you put about 1/2 a packet of unflavored gelatin in your raw mix, it will be nice and solid. I cook mine free standing, having molded it in a bowl or pound cake pan. It slices nicely and holds together well.

Well, the brain feels a bit more comfortable now, room to stretch out a bit. Unburden your heavy brain here if you need to. There seems an endless ream of paper on this Internet. You can write forever and never run out!