In yesterday’s post I was remiss in not mentioning a phone call that Deb took while we were driving to The Mountain. It was a fundraising pitch from the National Rifle Association, and she put it on speaker so I could hear.
The hired solicitor, clearly disconnected from the script she was reading, employed the usual arguments — Democrats in general and the current occupant of the Oval Office in particular, along with the UN ATT and other issues. Then she asked my missus to support the association with a tax-deductible donation or a multi-year membership. This was Deb’s response:
“I agree with you — Biden is a bad man. He needs to be tried for treason and locked up for the rest of his crazy life.
“But I won’t give the NRA one more dime of my money until it gets rid of Wayne LaPierre. I’m so disappointed in the NRA, and I truly fear for our freedoms knowing that it’s too weak and too dysfunctional to put up a fight. I blame LaPierre and anyone who’s worked to keep him there.”
“Thank you. Please remove me from your call list.”
See why I love this woman? I agree with her, obviously. Greed has killed the most effective voice defending our birthright to keep and bear arms.
Smudge update — three days after adjusting how we manage her wound, she’s doing fine. When we changed her dressing last night, it looked to us like it was healing much better.
We alternate between The Cone of Shame (which isn’t practical in the truck or in her crate overnight) and a soft rubber muzzle. While wearing the latter she’s found ways to fuss with the bandages, but not enough to do any real damage.
Remarkably, when she’s in The Cone she’s learned to use it as a tool — scooping up toys, moving stuff out of her way, annoying Scout and Dipstick. It may go too far to say that she enjoys it, but she seems to be damned proud of herself.
Deb and I took a little time yesterday to scout the area around the homesite for potential spots for a fire pit. We want it to be relatively close to the fifth-wheel (and eventually the house), and yet far enough away to feel like an escape.
The exercise was part practical, part diversion. We knew that whatever we decided, it’d involve employing chainsaw and pole saw, clearing out and up for safety’s sake.
We narrowed it down to two candidates. The first is east of the homesite, upslope near The Amphitheater, a nice flat spot with a great WSW view of the mountains (and therefore the sunset). The other is closer, in the woods behind the picnic table, tucked between a couple of outcrops of ledge.
Each has its advantages and its allure. We chose the second one, for character as well as convenience, knowing that it’ll require a helluva lot more work to build it the way we want it. I’m sure that The Amphitheater will get its own fire ring eventually.
First I’ll fell a few trees and get rid of ground clutter to establish a perimeter. Overhanging limbs will have to go, too, with special attention to the cedars. Then, where the fire pit will be, I’ll dig down (as best I can) to create a level pad free of roots and anything else that might be in the way. I’ll lay a bed of pea gravel for the pit and a few feet beyond.
Finally, I’ll choose and arrange a ring of rocks (we certainly don’t have a shortage of those) and cut some two-foot rounds for rustic seating.
I figure that the work will create a path to the spot naturally, though it’ll have to be refined a bit. Felling, trimming and cleanup will yield a supply of short- and longer-term firewood, which will be separated and stacked between nearby trees.
I’ll deposit the resulting brush on the spot where the house will go and, conditions permitting, will burn it there.
If you understand why all of this makes me smile, we can be good friends.
A Yellville panorama on a brilliant Friday morning.
Carolyn’s Razorback Ribs in Yellville reopened today. We’ve been waiting anxiously for this, cheering for the owner, even contributing humbly ourselves — the food is exceptional, the people have been kind to us, and it’s a local business that deserves to thrive.
We were there this morning shortly after the place opened. We wouldn’t’ve wanted be anywhere else.
The parking lots were packed. I waited in the truck with Smudge while Deb went inside to place our take-out order — brisket sandwich and loaded baked potato salad for her, the “Slop Bucket” and slaw for me, plus sweet tea for two. We took our long-awaited Ozarks BBQ straight to The Mountain, sat down at our picnic table and chowed down.
This afternoon we took a break from anything resembling hard work. I’ve reached the point where I’m good for about two straight days of strenuous activity before I need to recharge. This was a good day for that.
Once again, neighbors delivered us a couple of packages. The larger one was a RV patio mat, similar to what we’ve used with our travel trailer and motorhome. It didn’t take but a few minutes to lay it out and make our outdoor living space a lot more comfortable.
We still have a lot of work to do, but we felt like we’d earned a day like this. We’ll be back up there again tomorrow, with big plans on what we’ll accomplish.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.