Pre-dawn thunderstorms have become something of a pattern lately. Deb reports that this morning’s round was pretty strong. I wouldn’t know — I slept through it.
No one around here’s complaining about daily rainfall, that’s for sure.
As this new American Life unfolds and defines itself, there are certain things I know, certain stuff I can rely on. Like what I’ll do every Monday morning, represented by the load in the bed of my truck (pictured).
No, we didn’t need propane today, and no, we didn’t need gasoline today. Our generator has been relegated to a standby role, and the RV has almost two full 30-pound tanks of LP. But we also had two empty gas cans and one empty propane tank. And our preparedness mindset — dare I say, having our affairs in order — demanded that we fill them.
Better to have it and not need it.
Amid everyday responsibilities and weekly rituals, though, there’s always room for the unexpected.
Westbound on the county road this morning, bound for the transfer station, I came up on a Jeep CJ parked on the opposite shoulder. The driver, an older fella, crossed the road in front of me and got back behind the wheel.
As I rolled up, I asked if everything was ok. He smiled, nodded and brought his hands in front of his face, index fingers a few inches apart.
“Got to save those little turtles, y’know?”
We laughed. Rescuing turtles crossing these backroads is definitely a thing ’round here.
Noticing his hat — Trump 2020, camo — I said, “Some might say that MAGA folk don’t have the heart to do such a kind thing.”
“Well, that’s bullshit, now, ain’t it?” the good ol’ boy grinned.
He waved, I waved back, and we went our separate ways.
I love these chance encounters. It wasn’t the first time this has happened to me on that county road, and I suspect it won’t be the last.
Hardcore Hammers had a moving sale recently. They were blowing out overstock and B-grade merchandise, and at some very attractive prices.
I’m not in the market for another hammer, and the Hardcore “Original TR Axe” I picked up last November serves me well in the field. Still, I wanted something a little heavier than my vintage Estwing for fireside duty, and a Hardcore Carpenter’s Hatchet v2.0 would fill the bill nicely.
Almost half-price made it almost a no-brainer.
Full disclosure now, I haven’t yet put mine to work. That said, it pushed all my buttons right out of the box — size, weight, balance, grind and the incomparable warmth of a hickory handle.
The classic carpenter’s hatchet is, to me, one of those perfect tools, a romance that goes back to childhood days spent around builders and farmers. This one will get a lot of use. We’ll see how it holds up.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB