MORE EXPLOSIONS

 

 

Those people who faithfully read my blog (all two of you) probably remember my post about the exploding biscuits. I'm talking about those inexpensive, easy-to-make cans of biscuit dough that you pop in the oven. I make them quite frequently.

The biscuit cans that I bought kept inexplicably exploding before I used them. Some of the cans were (slightly) out-dated, which I attributed to the volatile outbursts. 

SO - - -
I've lately been extremely cautious about out-dated cans. I check the dates carefully and use the biscuits before they expire.

All the cans in my refrigerator presently have late September (2021) expiration dates.

Imagine my surprise the other night when I heard a loud POW in the refrigerator. A can of biscuits exploded. A few hours later another can blew.

 

I generally don't scare easily, but these things are dangerous - and it's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to touch them.

I can't change brands, because the local supermarket here in Nowhereland only carries one brand (Save-a-Lot Supermarket only carries their brand of products - - there is no other choice - - it's kinda like living in the old Soviet Union). 

Thought about writing a letter to the company but I'm definitely not in the mood.

Thought about abstaining from cheap canned biscuits, but I'm a masochist.

There's no plausible resolution to this doughy tale of woe.

My life is presently an intricate network of perpetual unpleasantness -

ill health, mechanical malfunctions in the house, 15-foot-high "weeds" outside (NO exaggeration), wild animals nesting in the roof, mice, snakes, gnats, flies....I won't bother to mention the really bad stuff.

Am I complaining?
Naw, I'm singing a Happy Song. I'd get up and do a Happy Dance but my back hurts too much.

I desperately need to make an excursion to town. It was much too hot to go last week. Bringing frozen groceries home six zillion miles in a 250 degree car isn't a pleasant prospect.

This week there's been nothing but rain. Rain.
So I procrastinate. Repeatedly.
Maybe I'll go tomorrow. 

Rodents, anyone?

The mice finally got into my precious piano manuscripts. I couldn't believe it.

The cursed bastards have eaten through the Anton Rubinstein D minor Piano Concerto that I performed with orchestra in Los Angeles when I was twenty. 

Is nothing sacred?

 

Thank goodness I have two copies of this concerto.

This seems trivial to you.
It means a helluva lot to me.

Want some homemade wine, anyone?
And exploding biscuits.........??

 

Note:
The comment reply "thingie" isn't working on my blog, so I can't respond to your comments. I'll try again later.
This has happened several previous times.

DRENCHED

Rain
Rain
Rain rain rain.
Not the possibility of rain
Nor the probability of rain.
Always positively rain.
Rain positively
Every day every night
Every week every month
Forever and ever.

This isn't a poem. It's a frustrated emphasis.
This isn't a complaint. It's a creative observation of the astounding complexities of Mother Nature. Or Father Nature, as my biased and unconventional gender orientation dares to perceive.

I once said that it rains 350 days a year in Tennessee. That was, of course, an exaggeration. In reality, it rains about 320 days a year here.

I'm completely out of supplies and desperately need to drive to town. I tried to go on Tuesday but the torrential rain was somewhat of a deterrent.  Narrow, winding mountain roads and biblical downpours don't mix.

I finally decided on Wednesday morning, because rain wasn't expected until late Wednesday afternoon. Wednesday dawned with ominous clouds and steady rain that increased with morbid intensity through each creeping hour.

Thursday (that's today, I'm assuming) was the worst day yet. Severe storms at dawn, high winds, endless downpours, and hail.

Heavy rain and hail this morning
baptizing the back yard

Pouring rain all day -
as if things weren't green enough

 (Blogger refused to center this caption)

Friday is still left, but I have absolutely no optimism for a rain-free day. It would be far too much to ask.

As for me, I didn't sleep at all last night. I'm brain-dead. Nothing more than the shadow of a zombie.
I should probably crawl into bed and cover my head. In the morning I'll send out a dove and hope he'll eventually return with an olive branch.
Rainbow covenant.

I'm hesitant to post this, because it's absolute crap. That's why I delete so many of my blog posts.

BTW-
many thanks to the discerning people who appreciated my Civil War music......

RAIN-DRENCHED WEEKEND

First day of Passover.
No, I'm not Jewish - but the Passover season has a special personal meaning for me. No need to elaborate.

Erratic weather. March (much like my life) has been filled with major inconsistencies. Storms and a Tornado Watch last Thursday night.
Friday was sunny, mild, and 70 degrees (Fahrenheit, for those of you in Mozambique).

Today (Saturday) was chilly (in the 50s) and perpetually stormy. Thunder and heavy rain all day. One brief power outage. Thank goodness it was brief. I have dinner in the slow cooker. 

Warm, sunny thoughts of Easter and spring - - mingled with dark, stormy personal worries. My mind is annoyingly contradictory....like the weather.

Photos to ponder

 I noticed yesterday (Friday, the mild day) that some of the trees are beginning to blossom.  That would be wonderful news, but the blossoms in my neck of the woods are ALWAYS killed by late frosts. Happens every year.

 A view from my front porch. Those hills over yonder will be completely obscured once the trees get their leaves. In the summer you'd never know the hills were there.

Kitzee and Bosco yesterday on the back porch, savoring the 70 degree weather.

Kitzee (left) will be sixteen yrs. old this summer. Bosco will be seven in April.

Today my mystical back yard is drenched in fog and rain. A stark contrast from yesterday.

THE AGONY CONTINUES

My adventure in the mud on Tuesday was like a ride at Disneyland compared to what I went through on Wednesday.

Due to weeks (months?) of rotten weather I've been postponing my (dreaded) drive to town. The fact that I was completely out of supplies forced me to finally go yesterday (Wednesday). I had no choice. My only alternative was to stay here and perish with the cats......
......who would live longer than me because they'd eat my carcass after I croaked from starvation.

After enduring more rain than Noah ever imagined, there was (finally!) a miraculous break in the clouds early Wednesday morning. Seizing the unbelievably rare moment, I hurriedly dressed and stumbled out to the car - fervently praying that I could somehow get to town before the next deluge.

Just as I turned the ignition key (in the car), God must have woken up and noticed my good fortune. The heavens unleashed a torrent of rain.

Desperate, defiant, and completely against my better judgement, I ignored the deluge and headed for the narrow, winding mountain road which began the endlessly agonizing trek to town.

The rain was so heavy that my windshield wipers were useless, the windows kept steaming up, and my contact lenses were foggy. 
By the time I got to town my legs had turned into two strands of linguini and crowbars were required to pry my hands from the steering wheel.

Let's skip the joys of shopping in Walmart and take you on the journey home.

The rain was still relentless as I left town and began the trek home. My astonishment knew no bounds when a thick mountain fog appeared out of nowhere.

Tennessee is the only place where I've ever seen heavy fog and torrential rain at the same time.
It's also the only place where I've sweated blood and shit in my pants while driving in it.

I'll never know how I (FINALLY) made it home, but my Hallelujahs were rudely interrupted when - halfway up the hill - I got stuck in the mud. Again. Just like I did the day before. Only worse.

It was still pouring rain. The car wouldn't budge. The very thought of trying to haul $200 worth of supplies up the hill to the house was beyond the realm of possibilities.

I do my best to look tough, but in reality I'm a delicate pansy with health issues that would rival those of Camille.
Crippled back, bad knee, tricky hip - - not to mention heart palpitations that are more irregular than a pair of underwear purchased at the Dollar Store.

Sorry - my pathetic attempts to be witty are presently in Desperation Mode.

I staggered up to the house (through mud and ten-foot weeds) and changed my clothes. Then I dragged eight large pieces of cardboard from the garage to the car.
Placed them under the front and back of the tires for a semblance of traction.

Inch by inch - - and I mean inch by agonizing inch - - I managed to coax the obstinate car up the hill .
I started around noon and didn't successfully complete the task until 3:30 p.m. No lie.

The car kept rolling back into the mud. The tires slipped and screeched. I had to crawl out of the car every three minutes to readjust the muddy, sopping wet cardboard. I had to stop and rest frequently. My heart was pounding like a lovesick bunny. I felt like I was having a heart attack.

It was nearly dark when the car was safely ensconced near the garage and I started dragging groceries into the house. The perishables were getting soggy.

Your post is getting too damn long, Jon, and your readers are getting extremely restless.

Lighten up, Kemosabe. This is free, breathtaking entertainment that they couldn't find on any other blog.

Should I mention that an hour after I got the perishables into the refrigerator and freezer, there was a violent storm and another power outage?

The power wasn't restored until around 4:00 in the morning (Thursday).

I'm so goddamed exhausted that I don't think my power will ever be restored again. 


My usual humor is sorely lacking in this post. I'm definitely not in a funny mood.....

GRIM REALITY

 
Fair Warning:
I'm in a rotten mood. In fact, my mood is beyond rotten. If you're looking for uplifting inspiration and unmitigated joy, you're in the wrong place. 
My blog reeks with the stench of grim reality. 

I'm not sure what unmitigated means, but it sounds impressive. 

I've been low on supplies for weeks but never (yet) made it to town. There were torrential rains all last week, which finally froze and turned to snow on Friday.
I'm not about to make the perilous trek to town on slick or icy roads.

Mother Nature's warm and assuaging breath melted the snow quickly, but the relentless rain returned yesterday, making it impossible to do anything.

When I heard that the rain might temporarily stop on Tuesday (that's today) I gleefully and frantically made plans to drive to town.
Dry days are so rare in Tennessee, that any possibility of encountering one should be seized immediately and utilized wisely.

With no raindrops in immediate sight, I started out early this morning. 
My car actually started for a rare change.
First I drove to my mailbox - which is about two zillion miles from the house. Since the latch on the box is broken, all my mail was a soggy, pasty mess.

I decided to drive back to the house - so I could hang up my mail to dry (am I being funny?) and clean the filthy windows on the car.

Halfway up the hill to the mansion, I got stuck in the mud. That's nothing new. I get stuck in the mud every time it rains.

But I wasn't just stuck.
This time I was Super Glue stuck. When I crawled out of the car I sunk in mud up to my knees.

I should mention that my left knee (still) hurts so badly that I can't bend my leg - which makes maneuvering in four-foot-deep mud rather difficult.

I'll also mention that I was wearing my best pair of jeans and an extremely nice winter coat.
I fell in the mud at least half a dozen times (no lie). Within ten slippery minutes I looked like the Tar Baby in Uncle Remus.

I'm going to be merciful and spare you all the agonizing details, but I will say that it took two hours to extract the car from the mud - - during which time I said things so vile that it would make Satan blush.

Eventually I had to trek up the hill through the mud to the garage, where I got cardboard to wedge under the car tires.

I was so friggin' disgusted after the two-hour ordeal that I went inside, ripped off my mud-covered clothes, and collapsed into bed.

I am COMPLETELY out of supplies. Fortunately I found an extra bag of cat food - but it's a brand that they hate.

Why don't you have groceries delivered to your house, Jon? It would be easier.

Hey, Kemosabe, I don't live in Fairyland. I live in the outer realms of Hell. I doubt if anyone could find my address. And if they did, the delivery truck would probably be permanently lost in five-foot-deep mud and fifteen-foot-high weeds.

I'm going to valiantly try again tomorrow (Wednesday) - even though MORE rain is predicted.



Unrelated note:
I thought my previous blog post about the Oscars was fairly interesting but only about three courageous and gracious people read it. So I removed it. It probably wasn't as intriguing as I initially thought. Perhaps I'll post it again. Heck, who knows?
I'm in such a rotten mood that I don't give a rat's ass what's on my blog.

ALMOST SUMMER

There are times when I get so tired of blogging that a temporary break is required. When I re-read the posts that I've written, I dislike every one of them. I get frustrated when I start boring myself. After all, I've often said I'm the most fascinating person I know.

My "fascinating" aspects have lately disintegrated into mundane crap.
My readership has dwindled. Comments on my blog are nearly non-existent.

I made two recent blog blunders:
Writing a pro-Trump post (which I'm sure infuriated 99 per cent of my readers)
and writing a quasi gay pride post (which probably caused a few of the church ladies to grab their smelling salts).

An aside here:
Some people might be puzzled or annoyed at my occasional "church lady" remarks. I started using that phrase long, long ago when I first started blogging.
I used to jokingly say that I'd better not put anything risque in my blog, or it will offend all the innocent church ladies.
I still think it's kinda cute.
And maybe kinda true.

Anyway, when I write in my blog, I'm mostly just talking to myself. That's why I bitch, complain, and ramble.
And occasionally blurt out my real feelings.

I plan to "blurt" my real feelings much more often. It's extremely invigorating.

When you live alone in the wilderness, like I do, blogging is an emotional outlet - a way of convincing myself I'm still alive. Finding creative ways to write about mundane things isn't always easy. Or interesting.

Change of subject

Tomorrow (Friday) is the first official day of summer.
Summer??
I'll believe it when the weather warms up. And when the incessant rain stops.

Rain, rain, continual, endless rain every day without letup. Severe storms last night which nearly put the fear of God in me. My cats retreated to safe places.
I got out the candles and oil lamps. 

I used to think the Missouri Ozarks was the rainiest place on earth. Hell, it can't compare with Tennessee.

This morning was foggy and autumnal (I liked it).
This afternoon - just before I started writing this - the clouds broke and the sun appeared. This rare event nearly took my breath away.

I looked for a rainbow but there was none.

Sunlight appeared this afternoon:

a rare occurrence

Bosco (this afternoon)

enjoying the open window in my bedroom

Kitzee (also known as Scratch)

enjoying the open window 

in the living room

(I never open the living room windows all the way, because the rain pours in)

DARK, DREARY, DESOLATE

Rain, rain, eternal unrelenting rain.
Dampness beyond imagination. A cold, bone-gnawing chill penetrates the house even when the temperature rises..... even on rare days when the sun dares to shine. What happened to those days?

Today again, again, torrential rain, death-inspiring dampness. My only solace is hot tea, hot chocolate, hot coffee, hot soup......and burrowing myself under a sheltering cocoon of blankets in bed.

The clothes hanging in my closets are damp. The clothes tucked away in dresser drawers are icy, nearly wet.

The garage - piled high with possessions that I have no room for - is now a burial ground of lost treasures: everything destroyed by dampness. Wet, pasty, infested with mold.

And outside: mud. Oozing, soppy, sloppy, slippery, soggy mud. Mud up to my ankles - sucking the boots off my feet when I try to walk. Mud covering a once-beautiful car.

The two wooden porches - which I carefully painted a year ago - are now ravaged from dampness and look 100 years old.....much like myself.

Am I complaining? 
Hell, no. I'm merely thinking out loud. Which is one of the very few beneficial things this paltry blog allows.

I had planned to write more Hollywood posts. Nobody gives a flying fig about my Hollywood years..... but I do.
I write about my past solely to appease my present discontent.

I write about my past to gently remind myself that there was a time when I was alive, young, attractive, desirable, amusing, charming, adventurous......
healthy, warm......dry, dry, dry....

I write about my past because it was infinitely more interesting than the present. Hell, why shouldn't I? My past was fascinating.

Right now I'm going to feed the cats. Clean their litter boxes.
Make dinner and hot tea.

Then crawl into bed and read.
And listen to the eternal rain.



Comments are disabled for this post.
That doesn't mean I no longer love you. It means that this is a private conversation with myself.


  

NAKED IN THE RAIN

I thought that title would grab your attention.....

......but your interest will probably diminish when you find out that it's me who was naked in the rain. 

By the way - the photo (above) is not me. I'm better looking.

One thing I've discovered during the past two weeks (see my previous blog posts) is that I never realized how much water I used until I didn't have any. It's a necessity that is sorely taken for granted.

Before I shut off the main outside water valve (to stop the flooding and fix the pipes), I managed to fill numerous pots, pitchers, and empty plastic bottles with water. But it wasn't enough.

During the span of two long and extremely hot waterless weeks, I learned the agony of having to ration and conserve.

I couldn't wash clothes, couldn't wash dishes, couldn't even properly wash my hands. When they got dirty, I simply rinsed them with hydrogen peroxide.

I couldn't even cook properly. Pasta, soup, even hot dogs need plenty of water. I made corn on the cob in the oven (my cousin Nancy suggested that) and it was absolutely delicious.

I had a helluva time shaving, because I usually use a straight blade (opposed to a gay one).

Think about that for a few moments. It will eventually become very amusing.

Even my cats consume lots of water. They have two large water dishes, which I always rinse and refill several times a day.
Bosco is a heavy consumer of H2o. That cat gulps water like I used to chug whiskey.

Should H20 be written in all capitals, or what? I wouldn't want to offend any scientists.

Going to the bathroom (or crap house, for those of you in Barstow) was a very challenging adventure....

....but I won't elaborate because I know there are decent, demure people who read my blog. Well - - one or two of you are, anyway...

I certainly couldn't take a bath or shower. But the frequent thunderstorms and torrential rain provided an opportunity to improvise.

During one particularly violent afternoon storm I quickly stripped off my clothes, grabbed a bar of soap, and ran outside.

One of the luxuries of living in the wilderness is that clothing is optional.

There is no way to describe the exhilaration of standing buck naked in a Biblical downpour and soaping up your body - - while lightning is zapping wickedly around you and deafening claps of thunder are reverberating so furiously that you can feel the vibration going right through your ass. 

This blog post has no purpose - except for my amusement and your astonishment.

NIGHTMARE AFTER MIDNIGHT

 eerie dawn on Sunday

I've done a helluva lot of stupid things in my time - more than I'd ever want to divulge to an innocent and unsuspecting public. Sometimes I've done insanely stupid things. Occasionally I do beyond insanely stupid things.

Tonight (actually last night) I had one of my beyond insane moments. My stupidity even baffled myself.

First of all, rural Tennessee had fantastic weather for the past two days. Thursday and Friday were near perfect: sunny, low humidity, in the 70's (that's Fahrenheit, for those of you in Antwerp). I savored every moment because I knew it wouldn't last. I'd be pressing my luck to the limit if I thought we'd ever get three good days.

Sure enough, the rain began on Friday night and continued all day Saturday without letup. As usual, everything immediately got sopped, soggy, and incredibly muddy.

I was worried about getting my mail.
That's right. My mail.

I think I've already explained (in a previous post) that my mailbox is infuriatingly far away from my house. You need pack mules and hiking gear to get there.

But the hike isn't the problem. The problem is that the latch on my mailbox doesn't work properly, so the door always falls open and all my mail inevitably gets completely drenched. The other day I got some letters that were so soaked I could hardly read them. I tried to salvage them with a hairdryer.

So why don't you fix the latch, Jon?

I tried fixing it, but nothing worked.
I attempted to buy a new one but the latch I found at the hardware store was nearly $30 and didn't look like it would fit.

Hey, for thirty bucks I could eat for three weeks. Or buy a year's supply of clothing at Walmart.

Don't laugh. It ain't funny being poor.

Why don't you buy a new mailbox, Jon?

I will, Kemosabe, as soon as I win the lottery. Now keep your damn suggestions to yourself. You're ruining my good story.


The rain continued after dark. It poured until long after midnight.
Then - - -
for a few blessedly glorious and intensely rare moments the rain let up.
It showered. Then drizzled. Then stopped.

In a hasty and hysterical moment of profoundly irrational judgement I said to myself:

"Holy shit, Jon - if you hurry like hell you might be able to make it to the mailbox before the rain resumes!"

I didn't care if it was after midnight. I was ready to go!
I put on my boots and hat, grabbed a flashlight, and zoomed out the door.

Well, it wasn't exactly a "zoom". I just threw that in for cheap literary effect.

I wasn't about to walk there. This place can scare the jeeters out of you even in the daylight. I had to take the car.

To make a long story short (which at this point is a complete impossibility),
I safely reached the mailbox. Of course, it was wide open. And all my mail was thoroughly drenched.

As I plopped the pasty layers of postal pulp down on the seat next to me, it started pouring rain again.

I could hardly see to drive back, and as I tried to make my way up the steep hill that leads to my house the inevitable happened: I got stuck in the mud.

It's happened to me many times before but I always managed to get out. This time I was really stuck and every maneuver was futile.

 This is the good, safe part of the trail up by my house. I got stuck in the mud way down in the dark part (photo taken with camera flash)

  I remembered hearing (somewhere) that if your car is ever stuck in the mud
1. don't panic
and
2. don't press your foot down on the accelerator.

I panicked. I pressed the living hell out of the accelerator - while the wheels screeched and spun and the car was enshrouded in billowing clouds of smoke and splattered with mud.

In exasperation I opened the door and got out. As I sunk into mud nearly up to my knees, the car started rolling backwards down the hill! I stopped it just in time and frantically turned the steering wheel to steady the roving tires.
I could go in reverse but not forward.

I decided that I only had two alternatives:
1. Leave the car there until it stopped raining and things dried out (which probably wouldn't happen until some time in late August)
or
2. Get some traction.

What could I use? Cat litter?
Naw, the cats need it more than the car.

Then I thought of cardboard. There was plenty of it in the garage.

I slipped and slid my way through the mud back to the house in the torrential rain. Got cardboard from the garage. Trudged back to the car and placed it in front of the tires.

 Remnants of the soaked cardboard afterwards

After a few more frantic moments of muddy immobility I finally achieved SUCCESS!!! 
I was able (with difficulty) to get the car back to the house! Or nearly back to the house.

There's more to this after-midnight nightmare - -
like the large owl that was continually harassing me from a nearby tree while I was stuck in the mud...
.....and how I slipped all the way down an embankment on my way to the garage.....

but I've supplied you with enough information to envision my miserable plight.

The only thing I'll add is that it's now Sunday afternoon as I write this - -
and still pouring rain.

LIKE A LION?

Did March arrive like a lamb or a lion?
All I know is that it greeted rural Tennessee with a heckuva lot of rain.

It poured steadily for the past few days and then suddenly - just as I was about to write this blog post - a chilly wind arrived, the clouds parted, and everything brightened with golden rays of the late afternoon sun.

I grabbed my El Cheapo camera and captured the momentous event from one of the rain-speckled windows. 

If these photos don't enthrall you, I don't know what will.

I had initially planned to drive to town today, but the heavy rain, thick mud, and mountain fog stopped me. I'll be forced to go tomorrow. I'm nearly out of cat food.
Not for me.
For the trio of cats.

Speaking of cats, I woke up this morning with a completely numb left arm and an overwhelming feeling of suffocation and impending doom.

Bosco was sleeping on my left shoulder and neck. His heavy body was pressed up against my jugular vein. A few more minutes of this rude intrusion and I would have passed out and croaked.

Death by Cat.

This photo of Bosco was taken when I first moved here. He's bigger and heavier now. 

Since the Academy Awards are only a few days away, I had planned on doing some posts about Hollywood. But I've been too lazy and uninspired. And busy with unpleasant things.

So, I'm offering a video that I made about four years ago when I lived in Texas (you've probably already seen it).

It doesn't depict glamorous Hollywood - it captures the seedy, anonymous, dangerous midnight underworld that I experienced and knew so well.

Crazy as it sounds, there are times when I yearn for that reckless lifestyle again.
I was young and intent on adventure. What I loved most was the sense of freedom.....and danger.

 Are there photos of me somewhere in this video? Who knows.

Full-screen viewing is best.

ATTACK OF THE EGGS

 Stormy Weather

I haven't had a migraine in several months and thought I was doing really well.

This afternoon I made two HUGE egg burritos and ate them very quickly (usually I'm an incredibly slow eater, but I was starving).
Almost immediately after finishing, I got one of the worst aural migraines I ever had. I lost half of my vision and went into a semi-Panic Attack mode.

Just another day in the life of......

Wonder if I have an egg allergy. I eat eggs fairly often but never had this happen. Too many at once, maybe?

It's still raining. And raining and raining....every day. Kinda gets depressing after awhile. I've completely given up the idea of trying to do anything outside. The weeds are nearly as tall as the house - and, frankly my dear, I don't give a damn.

You caught me in a foul mood. There's nothing more unbecoming than a persistent blogger who has absolutely nothing interesting to say - but when I blog I'm mostly just talking to myself. You're the eavesdroppers.

I'm still having intense back problems but I've learned to live with it and deal with it. I've dealt with worse things....

What about the garage? (I'm referring to my previous post). Yes, I truly did have about three hundred boxes. I kept 40 or 50 of the very best ones (disassembled them and tied them in a bundle). And I used some of the largest and sturdiest to put under some items stored in the garage.
The rest, I tore to shreds.
Here's the makeshift trash "can" I used.
I filled it about ten times.

Some of you asked if now I'll have room to put the car in the garage.
Well......the garage is still full of things that I have no room for - but I've stacked them (neatly?) along the sides of the walls.
With prayers and some strategic maneuvers, I just might be able to get the car in. At least by winter.

I'm dealing with back pain, migraines, three annoying cats (but I luv 'em), wild animals trying to infiltrate the house, hordes of insects, tick bites (and yes, I have allergic reactions to tick bites - I still have one on my ankle).
I'm coping with mile-high weeds and incessant rain, and other problems that I won't even mention or you'll start feeling sorry for me....

I'm also writing two books....and....

Drum Roll inserted here

I am in the process of (take a deep breath).....opening an online store. I won't reveal details because it will take a few more weeks (at least). It's a helluva lot more trouble than I initially thought.

Here are a few more grim photos to delight you.

Right outside one of my windows. I never walk in the woods during the summer months - - too many bugs and creepy things.

The rain this afternoon - - a view from the back porch.

Rain and some hail

The sun, trying to peek out of the clouds