Gnu

Weird thing about the gun issue, I deeply suspect it's coming to a head. Finally. I remember the various Indoor Clean Air acts and anti-tobacco legislation. Starting with not allowing cigarette ads on TV, which made Cigarette Tag more and more difficult. Somehow, this smells the same. Fewer people own guns. They are angrier and more militant, but there are less of them. Like the number of smokers going down, as the remaining few got louder.

Thing is, right to bear arms does not include the right to manufacture, nor even buy, guns. Arms. Could mean knives, right?

I seriously think that in ten years, there will be changes akin to the anti-smoking legislation, and the gay right movement. So the NRA is digging in, acting arrogant and entitled, but really, just scared. The tide, I believe, is starting to turn. Whole lot of fighting and blood still to be shed, but it's all in a hopeless, desperate last act.

On the other hand, four of our young surgical scrubs smoke, which is crazymaking.

One of my favorite games as a child was cigarette tag. Whoever was "it" would try to tag you before you could squat down and shout out the name of a brand of cigarettes that hadn't yet been called. My 6-year-old friends and I knew all the brand names; we could sing each of the catchy cigarette jingles — "Winston tastes good like a (clap, clap) cigarette should" — that we heard many times each day while listening to the radio or watching TV.

Winston was the sponsor of "The Flintstones," the first prime-time animated series on American television, which aired from 1960 to 1966. Caveman Fred Flintstone and his friend Barney Rubble smoked Winstons each week (so did Wilma). In the mid-1960s, more than 50% of men and nearly one-third of women in the United States were smokers. Children could buy packs of candy cigarettes from the local grocery store. There was little awareness of the toll that cigarettes would have on health.

Then in 1964, the first surgeon general's report was released. In that report, Dr. Luther Terry presented the evidence linking cigarette smoking to lung cancer and heart disease. Gradually things began to change. Smoking ads were banned from TV and radio in 1970.

-Ruth A. Etzel

Lamb

(Thinking deep thoughts.)



"Just a second! I'm not ready!"



"Excuse us, this is a private conversation."





"Two bees, or not two bees..."




"The parade is along here, right? And it's today, right?"



Lamb's tongue doing very well, despite the heat. More of these next year.



The neighborhood weather station hit 107˚ (41C) yesterday, and it felt every degree of that. Dry storms blew through, gusty without rain. Less oven-ish today, still hot.

Oppress

A Few Clouds
100°F
38°C
Humidity 10%
Wind Speed NNW 7 MPH
Barometer 30.12 in (1013.7 mb)
Dewpoint 34°F (1°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Heat Index 95°F (35°C)
Last update 27 Jun 3:54 pm MDT

Small schedule, again. I'd just as soon stayed in the OR cold. Oppressive out there, and this is just the beginning. We did go out for groceries, as I make a point of getting outside every day to achieve at least some heat tolerance. Having said that, the House is needing a lot less AC than last summer. The new half roof (with more vents) and solar panels, and House seems to be behaving better. This place heated up a lot more, and a lot faster, in previous summers.

Much feline engagement today. She'd been attacking him from behind the blanket on the chair. He started it, though.

Screen

Eleanor watches from behind her screen.


This is where the roses and grapes will go next year. The "before" shot on my external memory that is this site.

Pickled

"Boogah! Booogah! Boogah!"



"Yes it is hot enough for me," sigh.



"Shocking, simply shocking!"



"Oh, pick me!"

We enjoyed walking the local loop of the garden tour, two community gardens, and five urban gardens, met neighbors. All appealing in their own way. I wound up not even taking the camera out of my bag. Got to ask a few questions, have a couple of ideas for next year, nothing huge. Some of the home gardens felt too much like professional landscaping, which is lovely to sit in, but takes a lot of water in a desert. Dylan tells me he sees a very different philosophy from my garden. I didn't realize I had a philosophy. He says it's a natural philosophy. I prefer to think of it as home grown. Emerging from practical consideration.

Every garden in this small area grows pretty much the same crops, because they are the ones that grow here. Pease, beans and carrots, onions and garlic, tomatoes and cucumbers, zucchini, lettuce, kale, pumpkins. Strawberries. Some of which I like, most not so much, certainly not a complete healthy diet there. Relying solely on home grown food on tiny urban plots is wildly optimistic. Worth trying, of course, and it's all much tastier. Not looking at raising chickens here. Maybe when I retire, which is still a long, long way off.

Neighbor down the street with several raised beds, offered tastes of spicy pickles she'd made. Dylan of course tried one, is bringing me a bit on a pick as I talk with neighbor.

"OH, those are really hot..." she warns me. Dylan has my eye, and I smile and try the pickle. Oh, it is wonderfully hot. We rave about them to her, make her promise that if she makes a business of it to flyer the street so we'll know. I think it odd that she warned me, though. Dylan knows what I might, or definitely won't like.

During the walk we talked about learning to pickle. Later in the afternoon I looked it up. Although every one started with "IT"S SO EASY!" not one looked at all easy. A lot of assumed-understood terms, no clear instructions and a long list of steps, with numerous warnings to do it all perfectly. I don't think I'll be pickling anything.

Peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers doesn't make sense. Maybe if he'd picked pickling peppers, peppers intended for being pickled. But peppers already pickled, presumably in jars, don't come in pecks.

Returning

A small friend visited this afternoon. Glad to have them back.



Walked the local Urban Garden Tour this morning. A good day for it, but I'm a bit sun struck and footsore. Expect later editions.


Yes, Mantis.

Freckles

"I am NOT picking my nose! I don't even have a nose."


"Call me 'Freckles'."



Just came across Romanesco broccoli, and I'm thinking I'll try to get seeds for next summer.

Higher

I stood on tippytoes and held the camera as high above my head as I could.

As Dylan says, awesome. (Not AWESOME!, mind, just awesome.)

Both varieties of bee balm/bergamot are starting to grow. Before, they were just holding steady.

Wrangle

Got home. Eleanor sits in the kitchen.

"Um? Food?" meeps Eleanor.

"Ok, just a moment." I dish out some food, cutting up the larger bits, microwave for ten seconds to take the chill off. And Moby comes in.

"Dish empty."

"Yes, I know, here."

"Good. Thanks." He eats.

So I get another dish prepared. Eleanor waits patiently, then a moment more. "Um. Ok, I suppose."

After Moby is done, she switches over to his dish. Hers still has food.

Why? No idea.

Just glad that food has never been a point of contention for them. Only confusion for us. Cat politics.

Woman at work, originally from Pakistan (which shreds my growing-up-in-Detroit street cred all to hell) asks why everyone is so anxious and edgy lately. I think it's in the air, the news and the politics, globally as well as our personally national wrangle. So, no, it's not just us.

Cats had a good wrestle a while after. It looks intense, but no tails get bushy, no one upset after, so it must be play, or a conversation. Moby's gotten better at it, a vast improvement over his having no clue how to deal with another cat. Almost seems like aggressive cuddling at times.

Maybe that's overreaching.

Vowing to avoid the news for a week. It's not easy. It leaks in everywhere.

Howdy

"Howdy-do."



"mmmph, Um, no, I wasn't eating anything, why do you ask?"




"Halleluia!"



The last spring strawberry. Perfectly ripe, nicely tart. For the Strawberry Moon. Summer solstice.


A Few Clouds
98°F
37°C
Humidity 14%
Wind Speed NW 14 MPH
Barometer 30.08 in (1012.2 mb)
Dewpoint 40°F (4°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Heat Index 93°F (34°C)
Last update 20 Jun 5:54 pm MDT

Increments

I love comparing the older photos to newer ones.

Chill

High anxiety weekend. Dylan has had way too much exposure to the Public at work. And with extra hours in the coming week, he's bracing for more of the same.

Father's Day always triggers my worst memories. Dreamed I went out to water the tomatoes, and the whole area was just tilled dirt. My father had cleared it all away, including the tomato plants. In the dream I was livid, screaming, to no avail.

So we stayed busy, which always helps. Doesn't remove the disquiet, but keeps it at bay. Put the new blade on the hedge trimmer, which was a terribly fiddly job, with inadequate instructions, requiring a lot of foul language and many repeated steps. But getting it done is even more satisfying. Did a very small amount of painting on the side windows. Put up the rain barrel we got on Saturday through the city (big discount, very nice design.) Unsnarled the front blinds. Grocery shopping early. Breaks in between, nothing really exhausting, breaking up the Long Dark Teatime of the Soul.


Heating up today, but so far not too bad. The rest of the week will be high 90s as far as the eye, or the radar, can see. And of course, no rain for the rain barrel. We knew that back in May.

Got to say hi to Dog Spike several times today. Cat Sebastian even demanded to be petted, repeatedly. And skittish Dog Mocha, who runs through our garden every day, but keeps her eyes away when I greet her, made a point to come up and be petted by me, and then by Dylan, to Human Mark's surprize.

Trying not to spin too much, avoiding wondering what to do with myself.


"Just chill, dude."

"Yeah, what he said."

Guy

Just a guy, walking his cat. Nothing to see here, move along.

Got a drive-by "I LOVE YOUR GARDEN!" today. Guy in a passing pick-up. I hope he heard me yell back, "Thank You!" A while later, a woman with about five little kids, and four of them tell me they like my garden. One by one, and I thank each one in turn. Mom looking a bit sheepish as they go in turns, but I think it's pretty funny.

Not entirely comfortable with this smidgen of fame, but I could always use a little practice in graciousness. Not my strong suit. And Garden is lovely, I just listened and now I tend. It also does feel nice, that my work brings pleasure, so much that passersby are moved to tell me.

Found a bicycle thrown into the sunflowers this morning, on our way to pick up the second rain barrel. The SLCPD will be by Tuesday to pick it up. Apparently Tuesdays and Thursdays they retrieve abandoned (likely stolen) bicycles.

And as well as roses, grapes grow very well here. So next year, I'll plant both in back where nothing else grows. Weird that it's taken me this long to think of either of these plants. Mrs. Rizzardi had a grape arbor next door. My neighbor here has grape vines. There are roses all over the neighborhood, including my neighbor to the north. Just blind to them, too obvious to spot.


Much warmer today, but the house is staying temperate.

Art

Walked out this evening,
House on return, so pleasing.
"I did ok, here."

Plopped

Eleanor blissed out. She wanted to go out in the warm windiness. I knew, because it only took a bit of coaxing, and she laid down and let me put the harness on her. First time this year. Plopped her in the catnip, and there she sat for the better part of an hour. At first wary and alert, gradually relaxed and alert. Eventually ready to come in, and has been contented ever since.

Chartreuse

"First!"

"I like what you've done with my place."




Mind you, March last year.





June last year.



June this year.




Got to work on the other windows. Needed caulking, but not as bad as I'd feared. Ran into a neighbor with oddity, but she knew a guy who would fix old windows. We may finally get our windows taken care of. Some just need their tops painted (no ladders for me.) Some need a bit more. We'd love to have at least a couple that will open properly, with the cord/pulley/weight system they were born with. Hoping we've finally found someone. Glad I've stayed on good terms with odd neighbor.

Warm and windy day.

A Few Clouds
92°F
33°C
Humidity 8%
Wind Speed S 28 G 39 MPH
Barometer 29.66 in (998.7 mb)
Dewpoint 23°F (-5°C)
Visibility 10.00 mi
Heat Index 88°F (31°C)
Last update 15 Jun 3:54 pm MDT

Muddy

Cleaned up the mud room/cat toilet, as I'm putting things back, I pause. Maybe it would be better, here. So, I rearranged, and hopefully the cats will prefer this as well. Or at least use it as intended. I do this, once in a while, as I clean. Not that I just want something different, but I think it may work better.

My mother changed the arrangement of furniture in her house twice a year, spring and fall. In part, this was to keep the heating vents clear in the winter, so fair enough. But it went beyond that, or we could have kept the winter configuration all summer. She seemed to need to have Winter Set, then a different Summer Set, in every room in the house (save the kitchen) simply for the change.

My bedroom was also subject to this rule, even though it didn't effect the heating vents. Especially after I got a canopy bed.* Summer I slept with my head level right next to the window. Winter, I was shoved in a weird position under the slanted ceiling. Couple of years of this, and I took on the fight NOT to change into Summer mode.

"You'll be cold!"

I didn't care, preferring to see out the window. And not lose 3' off the edge of the room next to the bed. Took a lot of convincing, and a litany of being told what a bad idea this was, and how sick I would be, and how cold, forever after. The battle continued every fall until I moved out.

Not quite as bad as the fight to wear jeans, which I never truly won until I moved out.

Yes, having PTSD issues today, for no particular reason. As I was drifting off last night, thought I was with the ex, which hasn't happened in a very, very long time. Had to reach out to Dylan to reassure myself. Sadly waking him, but he wrapped me up and held me tight, so that was alright. Feeling itchy and unsure what to do with myself. Lovely coolish day, after last evening's rains. Weeded and cleaned, which holds back the worry, but doesn't eliminate it.













*I'd been in a Youth Bed, donated by a neighbor. Very low to the ground, but I'd've been happy with it. Instead, I got to chose a new bed, fine. I wanted a canopy bed. What I got was a Sears, white & goldish, largely plastic canopy bed, with my mother's choice of (pastel, yuck) colors for the spread, that she sewed herself (so, shut up little girl.)

Jacket

Rain, rain and more rain, cool and dark. Such a Michigan spring, and balm to my soul. Storms, thunder and hail. Got home a bit early, read a book on the porch with a cup of tea beside, wearing a light jacket.

A jacket? In June?? In Utah?!? Nearly unheard of. In Michigan, one could never be sure of not needing a jacket, or a sweater, any day of the year. Here, unless hiking in mountains, Most of June, all July and August are certain sure. And warm is reliable from May to September most of the time. Took me years and years to stop taking extra clothing everywhere all the time.


I did stop, eventually. At least in summer. Overheating being more of a threat than feeling chilly.


Recent Cracked article about being intersex.

Want them to prosecute NRA under RICO and let the CDC treat gun violence as a public health issue. Do whatever they recommend. All I'm going to say. Whirling around my head all night, putting it here so it doesn't keep me awake again.

Scuffle

There had been a scuffle over this window a few minutes before. I shouted off Eleanor. She seemed to be considering a rematch.

"Get your own window."

"mumble,mumble,wantedthatone, mumble"





Got the new Mary Roach book from the library. Grunt. Great first line,

The chicken gun has a sixty-foot barrel, putting it solidly in the class of an artillery piece.

Hi.(Color reduced to keep the rosacea from causing blindness.) Still, this is the face I've earned, and no regrets.

Company

For a long while she just hung out with me on the porch. Seemed a nice place to be. I offered her peanuts, reminded her they were there. She appeared unconcerned. Fine with me, she is good company.

Eventually, she decided, "Actually, maybe I will have just one."




One of our Western Scrub Jays, I think this is the female. I've added labels to posts with them.