Tons o'fun on 81

Last Friday, I left work and hit the road bound for Cana, Virginia, the stayover for my trek to Syracuse, NY.

With the Thule on top and an ipod full of podcasts and audio books (the free - ie., boring- ones), the mighty Odyssey finished the first leg without event and I stayed in a friend's guesthouse right near the VA-NC border.

The next day was a 10 hour romp through Virginia and PA entertained by Weird Al, Adam Corolla, and the CarTalk guys then I met up with my family poolside in Upstate and Team Keough was whole once again.

For I have not become Death, destroyer of worlds

Well, I was going to describe in intricate detail the suffering of the little guys in their hotbox of doom and my strange feelings of guilt... I mean, I don't care about spraying poison but for some reason, frying them in their home under the hot sun just got to me a little... I was even going to bring up comparisons to a Stephen King book I just finished in which a town is trapped under a mysterious, impenetratable dome.

But they managed to find a way out... the bastards!

Genesis 19:25

Two weeks ago while Erin and I were watering the plants over by the side of the house, we found ourselves surrounded by hornets. We ran off but both of us got stung... just once each though. No big deal but Eirn was a little shook up for a while... especially since she ended up carrying the squashed body of her assailant in her shirt into the house.

It turned out there was an underground yellowjacket nest where we were watering and when the jet from the hose was directly hitting their entrance, they took offence. Normally, I let the fauna have the lawn and the wild area. As long as it's a few feet from the house, it's free range. Once I found a snake and since it wasn't poisonous, I wanted to leave it but it was a big'un plus I had a baby daughter at the time so I caught it and put it a wooded lot across the street.

However, this was a high traffic area and right next to the area with the rocks that Finn likes to play in with his tractors. Last time I had a yellowjacket nest, I poured some gas down in it and they left... or died, I can't remember which. And this is what everything on the web said.

But 1) I don't like pouring gas on the ground, and 2) this was in a mulched area with decorative plants and I didn't want to kill them with gas. So I waited until night when all good wasps retire to their home and sprayed in a bunch of insect spray... and took off. I repeated this again the following night but with no results. The little guys (gals?) were happily buzzin' away.

Note I've never been freaked out by bees or wasps. They can practically land on me and I'll brush them off lightly but usually I pay them no mind and they do likewise. The denizens of this particular nest were the same..... but I was not going to have Finn come running in the house one day covered by stinging yellowjackets. The missus would not be pleased....

I had seen a single post online about putting a glass bowl over the entrance. Normally, according to the post, an obstruction would cause the yellowjackets to dig their way out but if it was a clear one, the "dig" command was not prompted and they would just keep trying to fly through.... until the nest died of thirst.

For some reason, squashing and even poisoning bugs doesn't bother me. I only do it whan I need to put it doesn't bother me at all. But this, this drawn-out torture did not appeal to me at all. But I did it.

To be continued

D'oh!!!!!

I cannot believe I've had this blog for more than 4 years and only now do I notice that I spelled "nauseum" wrong.

Goddamn.

Place du tertre

But on a positive note, I'm managing to feed myself... woo hoo!

Last night I made a vat of spaghetti and had it for lunch today, I will have it for lunch tomorrow, and maybe even Friday. Along with some of the giant cantaloupe Kerry bought Sunday and whatever I cut up of the watermelon quarter the neighbor gave me for helping him with his goddamn m-f'in grill. Plus I threw a bunch of sliced tomatoes into the sauce... another neighbor gave us a bag of tomatoes from his garden. Friendly neighbors hereabouts.

And tonight, along with the pale ale, I had this.

Pork chops with some cajun spice rub from a BBQ place in upstate NY I mentioned before. And tomatoes of course.

Pretty darn tasty if I must say.

Stompin' at the Savoy

Yes, yes it's nice being able to do what I want to do when I want to. It's nice putting something down and it still is there hours later instead of either being out in the yard or covered up with a painting of a horse.

But did my temporary pseudo-bachelordom start out all wine and roses? Nope... it started out in pain.

About every two years, my back gets thrown out. Now the first thing everyone says when they see me limping around like Methusalah with a hernia wincing at each step is "What did you do?" but the thing is is that it really doesn't have to be much at all. Last time was a box of books which is understandable. Once it was helping a guy push his car... also understandable. But I've done it picking up a stick in the front yard. And this time was just helping the neighbor get a fairly light grill off the back of his truck... at least that's what I think it was... it could've been anything.

So yesterday sucked and did today start off any better? No... it started out worse. I woke up at 5:30 this morniong and could barely move. With excruciating pain, I managed to get out of the bed and crawl to the kitchen to get some iboprofen - why do we keep these high up in a cabinet instead of on the floor? Then sent an email to my cow-orkers that I wasn't coming in.

But a few hours later I was at work.

Anyway after seeing that post linked to above about the Backout of 2008 I guess I have a few more days to look forward to which ain't a good thing since I've got the lawns of two homes to mow... mine and my in-law's new place nearby.

Joy.

Birk's Works

Yesterday at 6:30am, Kerry and the kids along with the in-laws piled into a minivan and took off for Syracuse leaving me to fend for myself for a week and a half.

Oh the agony.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm sad and miss them terribly... oh I will very soon but do I miss a screaming, whining toddler with a dripping, snotty cold who can't figure out what he wants and is royally pissed off that his parents can't either during the first few days that he's gone? Hell no.

Do I miss my wonderful wife who has been the one primarily dealing with said snottling while at the same time planning this trip and getting EVERYTHING ready and packed for it so has been understandably snappy at her hubby? Again, of course I will very, very soon but in the first few days of blissful peace? Not really.

Do I miss my crazy, laughing-endlessly older younguns, one of which can sit in her bed for 3 hours straight reading, the other who can spend an hour fine-tuning the gear ratio on a rope walking Lego contraption and another two on a domino trail, both of which will complain for hours about picking up a few clothes in their rooms? Well, yes.... a little bit.

Likely tomorrow evening though.... when I walk into a dark quiet house for the third night in a row and sleep alone once again with no one to chat with and no snoring tyke between us.... I'll be a-missin'em strong.

But for now, as I sit in a nice dark and peaceful house, the jazz station crooning and grooving uninterrupted for 3 hours, and my 2nd tall, cold glass of pale ale next to the monitor.... with time to think on what I'm typing and not having to run off and change a diaper or start Thomas and the Special Letter over yet again or get the runaround bunch to bed.... things are pretty cool, Daddy-O.

No really... your shirt's ON FIRE!

You can't beat a good roman candle fight.

Once, in college, my roomates and I were running around the front yard... probably on the 4th of July but who knows, it could've been freakin' Arbor Day for all it really mattered to us... anyway, we were lighting off roman candles. I'm not sure who had the bright idea to hold onto the things and shoot at each other (Sheer genius, I say!) but that's what we started doing. At one point, I was right behind Matt, fireballs firing. He ran into our apartment thinking he was getting away but, of course, I followed him in blazing away and we ended up with two souvenirs in the form of permanent molten black scars, one on the countertop and one in the floor.

When things had calmed down we were walking back inside and we noticed a small glowing orange-ringed hole slowly widening on the back of Matt's shirt.

Uhhh... Matt, your shirt's on fire.

Yeah... ha ha...