Hello, thirties


It was bound to happen again before spring was out. After waking up to 40°F the last two two days, we greeted Sunday in the 30s.

But for the promise of an afternoon high in the low 80s, I would’ve fired-up the woodstove. I settled for a hot breakfast and snuggling with Miss Smudge.

I checked my bacon supply. Four strips would do, and I had seven. I cooked it all up and put three in a Ziploc bag in the fridge.

I scrambled my last three store-bought eggs. As I usually do, I amended them with shredded cheese, garlic powder, Flat Iron chile flakes and crumbled red onion I dehydrated the other day.

Two slices of toast with huckleberry jam completed the plate.

You’ve seen all this before, I know. But a breakfast like that is worth celebrating, in my opinion, and so I do.

I’m sure I will again.

We made it a lazy day here on The Mountain. It ended with our Sunday tradition — Freschetta “Supreme” frozen pizza.

Life is good.


Every time I break out those vintage EKCO tongs — I bought ’em at the local thrift store last summer for 25 cents — I’m transported to my childhood.

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For the record, I don’t put ketchup on my eggs.

I put jalapeño ketchup on my eggs.

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Tuesday’s weather forecast has my attention.

Common blue mud dauber (Chalybion californicum). These strikingly iridescent wasps generally don’t pose a problem, though I wasn’t terribly thrilled when this one dropped from the soffit onto my head this morning.

Today’s header image: My happy and well-mannered Heeler waits patiently this morning for a taste of crispy bacon.

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable