So, yeah, the starter on the '90 plow truck went out after I got it stuck down the lane. But it's not the starter. But that's okay, because it could only be about 584 other things which I don't understand. No biggie, because it's not like there's another blizzard coming through tomorrow night and Wednesday.
Power steering gone in the '89.
I don't know why I whine. I have more than I need, really. Moonpie and I will go into town first thing tomorrow and supply up (dog food, cat food, chocolate covered sugar bombs, etc.). The rest of the day she and I will cut wood -- a huge, huge walnut tree that blew down year before last along the east creek. A good stove in here, a good stove out in the tool shed. What more could anyone want?
(2 hours of Amish shunning on PBS tomorrow night is what.)
She's getting old. She'll only stay out there with me for about an hour, then she'll wander back to the homestead. Hopefully she'll have the courtesy to die when the ground isn't frozen.
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3 comments:
She'll never leave you. You just won't be able to see her so well. She's a good dog. She'll let you know she's still around.
Hey, Iso.
My neighbor (dairy farmer) and his daughter stopped by last evening on their snowmobile dragging 2 dead coyotes. Coyotes are vermin, so they can be shot on sight/site, and it's 2 fewer chances for Moonpie to get picked off. But any dead thing makes me uncomfortable as I get older. I would've made a terrible farmer.
Sounds like it. I remember my uncle Mike bringing a burlap sack of live possoms into the farm house one afternoon. He came in the back way, into the back room that had once been a porch, but now served as an attached shed/laundry room/grow room. (I can still smell laundry soap and pesticide and loam when I picture the sun coming in the high windows). He brought them in squirming, and we knew he was going to kill them. I must have been about 9. I didn't look inside the sack.
Anyway, I have a partially new knee.
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