BIG BAD BITCH OF A SUMMER

This summer is a huge bitch. And it doesn't want to end.

I've lived in Southern California and West Texas - - which means I'm acquainted with agonizing six-month summers. 

When I came to the Tennessee wilderness I was delighted to discover summers that are brief and relatively mild. At least the first three were.

This fourth summer is a combination of the Twilight Zone, Wild Kingdom, and Death Valley Days.

I've endured more misery, horror, and pathos than one humble blog could maintain.

(What exactly is pathos? I threw it in for literary enhancement)

It hasn't rained in three days, which - in this area - probably means a serious drought.
The "brush" on my property has grown so tall from the continuous rain that it exceeds my six-foot-one height and impedes any attempt to drive out (in a vehicle).

I no longer give a rat's royal ass about trying to maintain it.

 My front "yard"

This is the shallow part

Of course, the tall brush attracts critters - which is probably why I had a snake in the house last week (see previous post).

I'm still completely unnerved over that adventure. I keep looking everywhere - thinking I'll find another humongous serpent.

I have squirrels in the roof and 'possums under the house. The critter invasion permanently expels the concept of all those cutsie Disney animal films that I was indoctrinated with as a child.

I'm ready to load my shotgun and annihilate Bambi. 

Did I mention that there was a small bat (yes, bat!) hovering around the kitchen window tonight?

I was making nachos at midnight (one of the advantages of living alone).

Suddenly there was persistent banging on the window.

 I was stunned to see a fluttering bat looking in at me. 

My first thought was Dracula!

My second thought was - he might break the glass.

I pulled down the blinds and turned out the bright light.

Bugs, anyone?

I'm still plagued with gnats (see two previous posts) and when they finally disappear, the Asian beetles will arrive (no, I'm not jesting). Happens every year.

My latest wasp sting (I've now had four this summer) is healing nicely but still itches.
The wasps are building nests everywhere and their aggression knows no bounds. I eliminated three nests this week and noticed a new one being constructed near one of my windows.

Four wasps got in the house yesterday and I was running around in my Fruit of the Looms armed with a gallon (yes, gallon) of bug spray. I managed to kill two of them.

Late last night (about 4:00 a.m.) I was in bed reading, naked (too damn hot to wear clothes), when a wasp came out of nowhere. It zoomed around the reading lamp.
I jumped out of bed and raced around the room, stark naked and armed with a fly swat
(don't try to visualize this - it's immensely unappealing).
Never did find the wasp.

Did I mention the intense heat?
It's been hotter than a tamale in Hades.
The header photo of my cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch) attests to the fact.

Bosco stays in low, cool places, but still enjoys basking near the sun.

STURM UND DRANG

What to write about?
My mind gravitates towards the controversial and the illegal.
Better stay in neutral territory, Jon, and avoid being shot.

I'm in one of my notorious dark moods - - my Heathcliff Mode, but there's no need for alarm. As with all of my emotional storms, the clouds will eventually pass.....

Was that a plausible ploy to talk about the weather? 

When I first moved to Tennessee the summers were mild, brief, not too humid. A pleasant change from the blistering eight-month summers in California and West Texas.

This Tennessee summer, however, is a persistent bitch: broiling hot every day with high humidity. My house absorbs heat like a sardine can on a campfire.
Sorry. It's the only analogy I could think of.

If it's 85 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside, it's 150 degrees in the house (only slight exaggeration).

I no longer have central air, like I did in Texas. I have three ceiling fans and a couple of floor fans.
When I first bought this place there were two window air conditioners but I removed them immediately. I'd rather die of the heat than have those gigantic, unsanitary monstrosities hanging from the windows.

Anyway, this summer has been plagued with eternal humidity and endless storms. Not to mention mosquitoes, flies, and furious wasps.
Thanks to the frequent torrential downpours, the weeds and brush on my property have grown to Jules Vern proportions.

This is only a very timid sample of what it looks like (above).
I've been valiantly attacking it with shears and clippers - - but what I really need is a tractor, a plow, a dozen field hands....and Divine Intervention.

I managed to "clear" a small part of my front "yard" (above) but almost passed out from the intense humidity.

Late yesterday afternoon there was another dramatic storm.

The storm clouds gathered quickly.

And after the storm there was a dramatic amber glow (photo taken from back porch)

What else is there to tell?

I've been eating lots of hamburgers, corn on the cob, and ice cream. And cantaloupe.

This probably doesn't look too fancy or appetizing, but it tastes great.

I always cut the cantaloupe into chunks, then refrigerate it. It's really sweet and refreshing......

.......kinda like me, only better.

 

CELL PHONES, HEAT, POSSIBILITY OF MURDER

Yesterday I received more mail for the guy who used to live here (see my previous post for explanation).

I am starting to get very slightly suspicious. 

I've lived here for four and a half years and never previously received any mail for him at this address. Not one thing.

Here's the Big Question (capitalized for emphasis):

Why this sudden postal surge?
It seems kinda odd.

I know the guy has a dubious past, but I genuinely believed I could trust him.  Now - however - I'm wondering if he has a plan to murder me and reclaim his old homestead.

Don't laugh. Stranger things have happened. He seems like a nice person, but.....

....Jack the Ripper probably seemed like a nice person, too. Until you got to know him. 

The rain has stopped (finally) and the summer heat has arrived a little early. Gorgeous sunny days.

On Tuesday morning the water pressure (here in the house) was very low. Finally there was no water at all. I didn't panic. This happens sporadically.
I said "To hell with it" and decided to drive to town.
By the time I got back home, the water was on again. 

I bought some good things: fresh corn on the cob and tomatoes. Roasted chicken. Ice cream. I haven't had ice cream in years. Tried some yesterday and it was heaven.

I also bought a new cell phone.

The recent Tracfone that I purchased is absolutely worthless. I seldom get a signal and can't text at all. Every time I try to text I get a "Check your network connection" message.

My first Tracfone was great. I had it five years with no problems.

Tracfone now features Alcatel phones, which are so bad that you'd do better using two cans and a string. Or Indian smoke signals.

I recently did some research on Alcatel phones:

They are designed in France.
Anything designed in France is crap.

They are owned by a Finnish company.
What has Finland ever given us but cheese and Sibelius?

They are assembled in China.
This conjures visions of eight-year-olds
working as slave laborers in Mao Tse-tung factories.

Anyway, my new phone is a so-called smart phone. Which was a big mistake - considering that I hardly ever use a cell phone. I only need a cell phone for texting - -
and for emergencies, like if a former resident of this place tries to kill me. 

This "smart" phone is at least five times more expensive to maintain than the Tracfone was. And it has loads of bells and whistles that I'll never use. You can supposedly watch a movie on it.

Who the bloody hell would want to watch a movie on a cell phone??? 

I haven't yet activated my new phone. But I did read part of the 700-page instruction booklet. Which is in about 450 languages.

Globalization, my ass.

Hot Hot Hot

Is it hot enough for you, Jon?

No, I like it hotter. I can't wait 'till I burn in hell.

It has been excruciatingly hot with killer humidity. The air is liquid. The 95 degree weather seems cool compared to the 495 degree inferno in the house. The ceiling fans and floor fans are useless. Clothing is optional. I've worn nothing but underwear all week.
Jockey briefs, in case you're curious.

The muggy mornings are heavy with fog.

 The front edge of my property where the road runs by. Or walks by.

It hadn't rained here in four days - which is considered a severe drought in Tennessee. Last night at sunset there was a weird thunderstorm. Mucho thunder but not much rain. The storm intensified the humidity.

 Storm viewed from front porch

I sometimes let my cats out on the front porch to get air. I keep it blocked off so they can't get down the steps and escape (the porch isn't ground-level, it's way up high). 

Just as the storm started, Scruffy escaped (which proves she's feeling better). I initially thought she went back in the house but I couldn't find her anywhere.....

.....so I braved the Biblical bolts of lightning and went outside to embark on an intense feline search. 

It didn't take long. She came running when I called her - wet and disheveled but safe.

Did I ever mention the weeds?

...he says with a smirk....

It's impossible to control them because of the constant rain. They're not exactly weeds. They're more like mega monsters.

You don't believe me? Check these out.

   Two acres of them. Many of the weeds are taller than myself, and I'm 6' 1".

So - despite my bad back and acute lethargy - I took advantage of the recent "dry" days and tackled the weeds. Solo and by hand. 

I only have one tiny lawn mower, which looks like it was made by Mattel. It took one glance at the weeds and hid under some pansies.

I used to have a much bigger mower but one of the wheels was broken so I left it in Texas.

I had absolutely nothing to assault the weeds with but an old rusty pair of shears.

 Every morning before dawn, I went out and assaulted the weeds. The humidity was devastating and - even at that ungodly hour - the wasps relentlessly attacked me.

I somehow managed to chop most of them down to about two feet. Late in the day, when the moisture dried up, I sprayed mercilessly with weed killer. 

 The front part of the property after my first assault.

It doesn't look great by any means, but it's sure as hell better than it was with

six-foot monsters. If it wasn't for the constant rain, I'd eventually be able to get the weeds under control.  

This post is too long. 

If only I could get my blogging under control..... 

SURVIVING SUNDAY

HEAT AND HAZE

It's Sunday and I think I'm surviving. Hence, the title.

I felt extremely sick last night: dizzy, listless. I don't know if it was due to heat exhaustion or those outdated eggs that I ate on Friday. Whatever it was, I was doing a reasonable imitation of Camille's final scene in La Traviata.

I can now fully sympathize with all of you people who've been complaining about the summertime humidity. It is intensely humid here. With the usual daily thunderstorms, of course. I think it's even more humid than Missouri - - and I always thought  the Ozarks was the most humid place on earth.

When I lived in West Texas the humidity was seldom above 15 or 20%. When I lived in San Angelo, the humidity was occasionally so low that it dropped below ZERO. No lie. Minus 4. Minus 6. That's beyond dry.

Can wicker furniture be painted? I wanted to know.

The Google answer was encouraging:
Yes! Absolutely!

A demonstration video was provided to establish the fact. The young woman in the video was a Paris Hilton lookalike - attired in a Gucci sun suit, and armed with an array of Martha Stewart paints and supplies. Brushes in various sizes, brush cleaners, specially designed cloths for easy cleanup, sheets of plastic to protect the ground, fancy work gloves, goggles to protect the eyes, and a well-lighted, well-ventilated room. She paints the wicker chair perfectly, without spilling a drop.

Hey, if the Gucci girl can do it, so can I.

I'm going to paint an ancient wicker bookcase, which should have been thrown out fifty years ago. I grab half a can of old yellow paint and a battered paint brush that has already been used three dozen times. I drag the bookcase out onto the back porch.

Despite the intense heat, the 250% humidity, and swarms of angry & aggressive killer wasps, I manage to slop a full coat of paint onto the bookcase.

If nothing else, it improved the drabness of the wicker. It still needs another two coats of paint, but I can do that later.

 First coat (needs a few more)

looks like hell in the photo but looks a little better in real.

So, how's your new blog going, Jon?

It's hardly going at all. In fact, if it was going any slower it would be in reverse. It's boring. Generating little interest. After three posts I'm almost ready to scrap it. I'm mostly using it as a vehicle to unload pictures from my vast & varied photo files. I had initially planned to post some tastefully done "R" rated stuff (no porn, of course) but I don't want to offend the innocent and unsuspecting. I'm positive that most of my blog followers are as pure as the wind driven snow.

Well, almost positive.

Heck, I'm an unoffensive guy. Most of the time. 

One final word - about my cats. I always seem to be unduly upset when Scruffy (my wild feline child) escapes from the house. Many of my friends have cats that they let outdoors. A few people have suggested that I should let my cats outside.

All of my cats are kept indoors mainly because I want them to be healthy. If they run wild outside - especially here in the woods - they will become infested with ticks, fleas, and other undesirable creepies.That's why I panic every time Scruffy gets out.

I also worry about the wild animals. The other day Scruffy went under the back porch and the 'possum chased her out.

The 'possum still resides under the porch and still tries to get inside the house via the clothes dryer vent, but I have it blocked so his efforts are thwarted.

The joys of rural life.......

 Scruffy
looking deceptively innocent 

link to
Cabinet of Curious Treasures

P.S.
A private note to MS MARTYR :
Farley Granger was gay but Johnny Weissmuller was straight - - so, you can confidently keep your crush on Tarzan (*smile*)