Skip to main content

Yardwork

So, June was the month of in-the-house projects, what with all the painting and the rearranging and the half-finished shower (which, according to all the experts I've consulted, needs a real plumber to finish). I made an executive decision that July would be the external projects month, so I can get used to living in my new space without going crazy about the mess.

Saturday was the first big yard project, tackled by my tenants, and it went pretty well so far: the japanese maple in the front yard has been trimmed back so it looks less like it has mange; the rhododendron bushes have been trimmed back on the front and side of the house so they're no longer taking over the space, most of the bushes along the fenceline in fron have been trimmed back to reasonable levels, and the electric hedge trimmers I obtained meant this all got done in about an hour and a half (including mowing the yard and spreading some anti-moss stuff to clear off the sidewalk and side-of-the-house pathway. There's still a ton of work to do, including getting started on moving the gigantic brushpile caused by all of this work, and doing any sort of work in the back yard, but the front of the house looks much, much better than it did on Friday.

Of course, what we discovered today when it warmed up was that there was a wasp's nest (or possibly a bee's nest) in the japanese maple and that trimming back everything really stirred them up. I spent most of the day looking through the glass and wondering if they'd be able to find a way into the house, which is terrifying for me, what with being horribly allergic to stings. At dusk, when things started to cool off again and the bees went back into sleep mode, my tenant attacked the nest with some horrible chemicals and it appears to have taken care of everything. I guess we'll see when it heats up again.

I've pulled rank and am now working the early shift, so it's off to bed early for me, at least for the summer.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

So that happened.

I couldn't resist, and didn't really want to. So I bought an iPad. First Gen, but they're on significant sale right now, so I can use this one until July or august, when I'll buy an iPad2 and give this one to someone else. I named it "conspicuous consumption" because it seemed like truth in advertising. FYI, this blog post is coming from inside the tablet!

The default state of technology is broken.

Score one for DRM making me a pirate. I had bought a blu-ray player for my new computer so I could watch hi-def movies on my entertainment-center projector. Apparently, despite paying extra for the hardware, I needed software to play the blurays. OK, fine, I said, and the person who helped me build the machine downloaded some software that would play the blurays. Then, tonight, I went to watch my copy of Inception, and it played for 4 minutes, at which point the software stopped working and insisted that the bluray disc wasn't valid, unless I ponied up $60 (59.95, 25% off for the new year!) to "upgrade" to the latest, licensed version of the software. So, not only did I have to pay extra for the hardware, and extra for the media, I now have to pay extra for the software. Pardon my language, but FUCK THAT SHIT. So, now I'm working on finding a less-expensive way to watch the movie (well, actually, the extra content) that I ALREADY BOUGHT. I've also uninstalled th

Occasional Media Consumption: Swordheart, by T. Kingfisher.

I'm not sure how to say what I want to say without saying it wrong. I don't think I have been this excited for a new author's work since I was in the rapid process of discovering and then chewing through the back catalog of C.J. Cherryh, who at that point had just published Foreigner and grabbed me by my whiskers and screamed (metaphorically) "Look! Here is an author whose style of prose and choice of character speaks directly and entirely to you!" Or that moment in my high school years when I stumbled upon Melissa Scott's Trouble and Her Friends and I suddenly knew, with a certainty that has still not yet left me, that I wanted to be a part of the future (and the culture) of technology. And yet that's not fair, because T. Kingfisher, nee Ursula Vernon, is her own writer, her own voice, her own authorial person, and doesn't deserve to be compared to others.   To say that Kingfisher's prose style and choice of genre (which is to say, a