Garden update

 A few days of 100-plus heat held the garden back a bit, but it survived. A half inch of rain last night rejuvinated things. As the man who jumped off the 10-story building was heard saying at each floor: "So far, so good."

Have picked some cukes and zukes and beans. A half dozen tomatoes had blossom end rot that I attacked with some calcium chloride spray (Rot Stop) and it's now looking like it could be a banner season in the Haugen household. I have some monster green peppers and my novelty plants of the year, the Red Peter peppers, are loaded. Along with several jalapeno and Habenaro peppers, I may spend all winter in the bathroom.

Here's a peek at some naked tomatoes.

Finished: 'The Wife Between Us'

 "The Wife Between Us," by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen, was a slow starter but finished okay. I almost quit halfway through but trudged on, probably for the best because I want to save quitting for the absolute worst books.

It's certainly a good reminder that blurbs from reviews can be misleading, like: 

"A fiendishly smart cat-and-mouse thriller" ―New York Times Book Review

"Buckle up, because you won't be able to put this one down." ―Glamour

"Jaw dropping. Unforgettable. Shocking." ―Publishers Weekly (starred review)

It's basically an ex-wife stalking her ex-husband's new fiance with some twists thrown in.

One anonymous 1-star review wrote, and I agree: "It just drags, the authors felt compelled to provide minute details on every activity, place, object, and thought."

It's kind of the opposite of how I write. I should probably be more detailed and descriptive. It would help turn those novellas into novels. But I don't like my books to drag, sometimes to the detriment of the reader not knowing what each character had for breakfast and what they were wearing while doing so. So be it.

Goodreaders gave it a ho-hum 3.85 of 5. The much more gullible and easily-pleased Amazonians a 4.4. I gave it a 6 of 10.

I didn't realize how far behind I'd fallen in logging my books. Life comes at you fast in the summertime. I also read in June and July:

** Hit and Run by Lawrence Block. 6. This was book four of five in the Keller series. 

** Forever by Jeffery Deaver. 7. Mystery author extraordinaire Ed McBain pulled together some of his buddies to write novellas for a series called "Transgressions." This is one of them. 

 Talbot Simms is an unusual cop. He's a statistician with the Westbrook County Sheriff's Department. When wealthy county resident's begin killing themselves one after another, Simms begins to believe that there is something more at play. And what he discovers will change his life . . . forever.

** Make Out with Murder by Block. 6. This was one of the better ones from the Chip Harrison series.

The streetwise gumshoe is Chip Harrison, who has finally secured himself a job, acting as the man-about-town for the corpulent detective Leo Haig. And it's on the dangerous streets of New York that Chip brings home his first case, one in which five beautiful sisters are being systematically murdered by a killer with a diabolical design.

** The Vengeful Virgin by Gil Brewer. 8. This was from the Hard Case Crime imprint. I enjoy the books they publish.

Her wealthy stepfather was dying - but not quickly enough. What beautiful 18-year-old would want to spend her life taking care of an invalid? Not Shirley Angela. But that’s the life she was trapped in – until she met Jack.

Now Shirley and Jack have a plan to put the old man out of his misery and walk away with a suitcase full of cash. But there’s nothing like money to come between lovers – money, and other women…

My boys like me

 

Odds n ends

Here are some articles I've read recently that I found interesting. You might think so too. Or not.

*** This is about the former leader of the Proud Boys and Vice. What a kook: The Secret History of Gavin McInnes

In the ’90s, he played punk rock and helped create Vice magazine. Five years ago, he founded a very different organization: the Proud Boys, the far-right group that came to personify the vilest tendencies of Trump’s America. A former Vice editor interviews one of our era’s most troubling extremists.

*** Jason Whitlock column. Fearless: Scottie Pippen’s racial assault on Phil Jackson shows we need a war on Twitter crack

I blame Twitter and social media. I'm not joking. Social media apps are driving the racial hysteria plaguing the country.

Once you admit the problem, then you can see how it perverts your thoughts and causes you to see every human interaction through the lens of racism. Once you admit the problem, then you can take steps to combat the problem.

*** Is Poe the most influential American writer? I would say 'yes.' A new book offers evidence.

 Poe largely created the modern short story, while also inventing or perfecting half the genres represented on the bestseller list, including the mystery (“The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” “The Gold-Bug”), science fiction (“The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar,” “The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion”), psychological suspense (“The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Cask of Amontillado”) and, of course, gothic horror (“The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Masque of the Red Death,” the incomparable “Ligeia”).

It was many and many a year ago,

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

*** The book-burners are still at it. Guess it doesn't matter that it was named Book of the Year by The Economist and one of the best books of 2021 by The Times and The Sunday Times. It's called Irreversible Damage by Abigail Shrier.

I won't be buying it because it's not a murder mystery, serial killer novel or sexy pulp fiction noir. But if YOU want to, it's on Amazon, which kind of surprised me, but good for them.

*** There's always some dinks out there to complain, but the Juneteenth holiday seems pretty legit and appropriate to me. In doing some reading about it I ran across this speech by Frederick Douglass regarding Independence Day ten years before the Emancipation Proclamation. It's long, but worth the time.

*** "Pretend like you care about something other than profit and power, precisely to gain more of each." 

From a NY Post column: Woke, Inc: Why I’m blowing whistle on how corporate America is poisoning society

The cat

 Cat sitting daughter’s vicious psycho cat. Wife bought it some toys to win her over. Didn’t work. Attacked me shortly after this pic.

Random flowers around the house

 

This was the former trampoline area the previous homeowners had in the backyard. I tried some raspberries and gooseberries but didn't like how they were doing. Pulled them out last fast, built a flower bed and a little of this and a little of that and it seems to be off to a good start. Painted daisies, black-eyed Susan and coneflowers (not flowering yet) in the box. Planted from seed in my greenhouse this summer. 

In the rocks are some mint and milkweeds for the monarchs. 

Shasta daisies on the path to my garden.

Finished Dean Koontz's 'The Other Emily' and others

 Playing catch-up here a bit for those of you who care what books I've read.

The highlight was Dean Koontz's new novel "The Other Emily." I kick myself whenever I get off a Koontz kick and bother with other authors, because he's so consistently good. This didn't disappoint.

A decade ago, Emily Carlino vanished after her car broke down on a California highway. She was presumed to be one of serial killer Ronny Lee Jessup’s victims whose remains were never found.

Writer David Thorne still hasn’t recovered from losing the love of his life, or from the guilt of not being there to save her. Since then, he’s sought closure any way he can. He even visits regularly with Jessup in prison, desperate for answers about Emily’s final hours so he may finally lay her body to rest. Then David meets Maddison Sutton, beguiling, playful, and keenly aware of all David has lost. But what really takes his breath away is that everything about Maddison, down to her kisses, is just like Emily. As the fantastic becomes credible, David’s obsession grows, Maddison’s mysterious past deepens―and terror escalates.

Is she Emily? Or an irresistible dead ringer? Either way, the ultimate question is the same: What game is she playing? Whatever the risk in finding out, David’s willing to take it for this precious second chance. It’s been ten years since he’s felt this inspired, this hopeful, this much in love…and he’s afraid.

It's tough to say much more without giving away the twists and ending. I came close to figuring it out pretty early on, but Koontz surprised me with the grand finale and why it was Thorpe felt guilty. Suffice to say it was typical Koontz - good versus evil, quite frightening and bordering on the impossible, but the more you think about it, pretty probable.

I gave it an 8 of 10 on the Haugenometer. Amazonians a 4.3 of 5.

** Another one I was looking forward to was "The Sentinel." It's the first of the Jack Reacher series where author Andrew Child steps in to continue the popular series begun by his now-retired brother, Lee Child.

Having read the previous 24 books written by Lee, I have to say Andrew did a pretty good job. But, a devotee to the series like me could recognize some differences in style. The one that stood out to me most is that he had a much more talkative Reacher. Sometimes in unrealistic ways, like when Reacher is ready to defend himself against a gun-wielding bad guy, Reacher launches into a soliloquy of how he's going to defeat the guy before he does it. Meanwhile, apparently, the bad guy just stands there and waits for him to be done sermonizing before the fight begins. Otherwise, it was all good.

I gave it a 6 of 10 and look forward to the next one, "Better Off Dead," due out in October.

** I also read Lawrence Block's "No Score" - one of the short Chip Harrison series. Kind of a silly book, but mildly entertaining, as drifter Chip keeps having his quests to lose his virginity interrupted. I gave it a 5 of 10. The Harrison series is not one of Block's best, probably his lamest.

** I round out the list of missed reviews with Ace Atkins' "The Ranger." This is the first of six in the Quinn Colson series, a former Army Ranger returned to his home in the south and cleans it up. I gave it a 6 of 10.

A fun but 'short' visit

 My best friend from college, Steve, broke quarantine in Minnesota and visited the Black Hills with his wife last week. I met him for lunch in Hill City and then we roamed the streets. Talked non-stop for about three hours. It was great.

He’s in the small circle of close friends of mine. I have fewer than 10 people in my life whose opinion of me I actually care about. He’s one of them. He knows where the bodies are buried and would lend me his shovel to bury another. The two of us can talk the usual BS guy-talk but also get into deeper subjects, like aging parents, us aging, wives, kids, politics. Just like the old days, minus the bottle of vodka and Breakfast Club playing in the VCR for the 100th time. As they say, he gets me. Few do.

He’s also one of the few people who still calls me by my college nickname: Coz. Don’t even remember how I got that. For a short while I was “Speed.” Don’t ask. I liked that one, but it never stuck. Coz did. 

We took the obligatory selfie in front of a chainsaw-carved bear in Hill City and texted it to the third member of our college trio who was still under armed guard in his home outside Minneapolis. It took us a while as two old guys can do trying to get a decent photo of the two of us and the bear. When it was done, I was surprised by one thing – how short I appeared.

Being short is nothing new for me. I was one of the youngest in my grade growing up. Combined with being a late bloomer anyway, I was always six inches shorter than anyone in my class. Until my senior year. Then, as my dad had been telling me but whom I was beginning to doubt, I grew. By my freshman year in college I was 6-2. No longer short!

So what did this genius do in college? I befriended two of the tallest guys in my class, both basketball players, both 6-7.

Steve told me once that I’d apparently caught the eye of some vision-impaired or hard-up co-ed who had asked him: “Who’s that short guy you’re always hanging around?”

Rather than being flattered, and fresh off a long bout with short-man’s syndrome, I replied: “Short!? I’m six-foot-two!”

But there I was, the short guy again. And it reared its ugly head again in the selfie we took 35 years later. It even appeared Steve had grown another inch and I’d shrunk an inch. How’d that happen?

How about those vaccinations, eh?

 Consistency is not a great American virtue of late. The COVID vaccine debate is a good example. I received my shots in March. No big deal. If you aren't getting yours, fine. I don't care. But the arguments against strike me as silly and often hypocritical.

For those who say "my body is a temple" so they aren't going to put a couple milliliters of a FDA-approved vaccine in their body, I've seen your temple hanging over your sweatpants at Walmart. It's built out of french fries, glued together with corn syrup and sprinkled with Cheetos. You wouldn't know the food pyramid from the Great Pyramid at Giza.

I'm a bit of a health nut the past few years. Certainly wasn't always that way. I grew up swimming in a cattle tank (the cows don't always face out) and getting sprayed down with RAID before walking beans in the evening by Selma Hansen (not Hayek, unfortunately). I started chewing Copenhagen at 16. Then I spent a decade of decadence consuming enough tequila and Old Milwaukee to keep Mexico and Wisconsin solvent through the 1980s. So I figure a little potassium chloride isn't going to do me in.

Then there is the "I only consume natural ingredients" crowd that will chow down every untested but friend-on-Facebook-approved supplement at the health food store. Oh look, here's some opossum sperm that will remove wrinkles. As Billy "Crash" Craddock would sing: Rub it in, rub it in. Here's some poison castor bean powder that will clear up my toenail fungus! Gobble, gobble. 

Or the not-so-natural-stuff: Viagra! Munch, munch. Gimme my Zoloft; I'm depressed.

I want the state to legalize weed so I can stay stoned through life, but don't tell me to get a shot that might save my life or that of my grandma. Instead, pass me a menthol cigarette or the vape pen with the newest flavor: Willie Nelson's socks.

You're worried about what you put in your body? Give me a break.

Ladies, lay off the Scensty then if you're so concerned with what goes in your bod. Maybe research what's in those scents before you inhale. (Hint: it ain't all pumpkin and dandelions.)

Lately I've been following these athletes who don't want to get the shot. Okay, fine. Then also knock off the illegal steroids. Quit visiting GNC for every testosterone-booster, pre-workout juice and after-workout powder. Pump iron like a real man. Go aunatural there too.

My body is a temple. Ha. Pass me the meth pipe, say over 12 million Americans. Over 36 percent are obese. Fifteen percent smoke cancer sticks. Over 6 percent have alcohol problems. About 88,000 people die of alcohol-related causes annually in the United States.

Four out of five Americans are prescribed antibiotics every year (antibiotics approved by the same government as the COVID vaccine, by the way). CDC estimates about 47 million antibiotic courses each year are prescribed for infections that don't need antibiotics. But I'm not going to get that COVID shot because I'm free! I'm not a sheeple! I watch what goes in my body. Pfft.

Don't get me wrong. I don't think we're at the point where the government has to mandate the COVID vaccine like they do childhood vaccinations. But it won't be long and private business will and, having been a small business owner, I'm fine with that. If Delta says you need a vaccine to fly, so be it. Drive to Florida instead. If Menards wants to see your vaccination card to enter and you don't have one, go to Runnings. If you want to go to the next Bruno Mars concert and he says you need to be vaccinated, good on him. Go see Miley Cyrus.

I feel good having had my shots. A little more secure. More free, believe it or not. I realize they aren't 100 percent foolproof. But I'm a gambling man and like my odds having it while I mingle among the crowds. Because I've seen those crowds, I know people in those crowds, and unlike some in those crowds I'll listen to my doctor before I listen to my Facebook friends who think they're doctors.

A little COVID vaccine for a little peace of mind? Straight into my veins, baby!

Finished: John Sandford's 'Ocean Prey'

 John Sandford's latest features Lucas Davenport and Virgil Flowers, which is always a good combination.

The 31st book in the series is unique in that it is the first one I can recall which is not Minnesota-centric. It takes place in Florida where Lucas is called in, now with the U.S. Marshals, to investigate the murder of three Coast Guard members. He recruits Virgil to serve as a deep sea diver, a talent I was unfamiliar with for Virgil.

An off-duty Coast Guardsman is fishing with his family when he calls in some suspicious behavior from a nearby boat. It's a snazzy craft, slick and outfitted with extra horsepower, and is zipping along until it slows to pick up a surfaced diver . . . a diver who was apparently alone, without his own boat, in the middle of the ocean. None of it makes sense unless there's something hinky going on, and his hunch is proved right when all three Guardsmen who come out to investigate are shot and killed. They're federal officers killed on the job, which means the case is the FBI's turf. When the FBI's investigation stalls out, they call in Lucas Davenport. And when his case turns lethal, Davenport will need to bring in every asset he can claim, including a detective with a fundamentally criminal mind: Virgil Flowers.

I cruised through the book (over 400 pages) in about three nights. It rated an 8 on the 10-point Haugenometer. Others seemed to agree as Goodreaders gave it a stellar 4.6 of 5.

** Previous to that I did what I said I wasn't going to do and read another Tim Dorsey book - No Sunscreen for the Dead.

It's the 22nd in the Serge Storm series.

The books focus on psychotic Serge and his stoner buddy Coleman traveling around Florida causing trouble. This time at senior living communities.

Serge and Coleman are back on the road, ready to hit the next stop on their list of obscure and wacky points of interest in the Sunshine State. This time, Serge’s interest is drawn to one of the largest retirement villages in the world—also known as the site of an infamous sex scandal between a retiree and her younger beau that rocked the community.

What starts out as an innocent quest to observe elders in their natural habitats, sample the local cuisine, and scope out a condo to live out the rest of their golden years, soon becomes a Robin Hood-like crusade to recover the funds of swindled residents. After all, our seniors should be revered and respected—they’ve heroically fought in wars, garnered priceless wisdom, and they have the best first-hand accounts of bizarre Floridian occurrences only Serge would know about. But as the resident’s rally for Serge to seek justice on their behalves, two detectives are hot on the heels of Serge and Coleman’s murderous trail.

In this epic adventure that jumps between present day and the tumultuous times of the Vietnam war, mystery fans are in for a witty and deliciously violent delight from the twisted imagination of bestselling author Tim Dorsey.

The books are so formulatic and inane, but they are funny and you don't need to use your brain. Those kind of books have a place when your mind is in that place and mine was.

It did the job - entertained - and was one of the better ones recently in the series. I gave it a 6 of 10. Unbelievably, to me, Amazonians gave it a 4.7 out of 5, which probably says as much about our society today as anything. Maybe people are just looking for an escape ... or doing a lot of drugs.

A new favorite priest

 For one week this March and another the previous March 2020 (we book-ended the Wuhu) wifey and I vacationed at St. Pete's Beach in Florida. We have a favorite spot and enjoyed each stay immensely. We stayed Wednesday to Wednesday. One of the highlights each time was on a Sunday. Specifically, the church service in St. Petersburg.

My religious journey could fill many blog posts but in overview: I was raised Lutheran and converted to Catholicism about twenty years ago. There have been varying degrees of devoutness along the way, with highs and lows. It's safe to say the last three years have been a low. I've attended mostly out of obligation and during COVID mostly remotely via the interwebs. The past couple years, I feel like I've been a better Christian than a Catholic, so I guess that's the important thing.

But those two services in St. Petersburg have kept my Catholic flame flickering.

It's a smaller church in a residential neighborhood. The African-American priest refers to it as "the hood" though I would not have categorized it as such. But, then again, I visited at 10 a.m. on Sundays so probably catch the neighborhood in its prime.

The congregation was diverse. If I had to guess, I'd say half white, quarter black, with the rest Asian and Hispanic. Young people, old people, singles, and families. They were very friendly and greeted us with open arms.

They were a reflection of the priest. Out-going, exciting, oozed the spirit of Christ. He wasn't the stoic, formal, dry priest I see so much of. Don't get me wrong, I've known some good ones, some great ones even. But lately there've been none, other than him, who made me wish the service was longer.

At the end of our first Mass there, he asked who in the congregation had a birthday that week. A couple did. Everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to them. Then he asked if there were any visitors. We stood and he asked us to tell where we were from and what brought us there. Then everyone applauded.

His homilies (sermons to you non-Catholics) were touching, well thought out and made you want to hit the streets to tell your neighbors about Christ (or blog about it). He slipped in a couple "let me hear an 'Allelujiah!'s and the crowd responded. Not your average South Dakota priest.

We visited with him a bit as we left and he told me he'd served at a parish on the Pine Ridge Reservation years ago. He knew West River well. When we returned home from our first visit, I emailed the priest to tell him how much we enjoyed his Mass. 

Upon our return visit he saw me and said: "My South Dakota friend." When I received communion from him he gave me the host and then patted me on the shoulder like a friend. 

A good contrast was provided from the previous week in South Dakota where the priest during announcements at the end of Mass told us things would be returning more to normal at services. Though, during the part where we normally greet our neighbors with handshakes and "Peace be with you"s, there would be no handshaking and "I don't want you flashing peace signs back and forth."

Well, in St. Petersburg, the time came for "peace be with you" and the priest led the charge in flashing peace signs with the congregation and us with each other. It wasn't disruptive, it wasn't sacreligious, it wasn't disrespectful. It was fun and it was joyful.

We need a little more of that in my church, if you ask me (which they don't). I don't need a rock concert at my Mass, but I don't want to be falling asleep either. I don't need to be begged for money and I don't need to feel like I need to be scolded every other week either. 

I'm there to hear the Lord's word, celebrate it and feel better about life and raring to attack the week ahead feeling like God is on my shoulder guiding my actions, my decisions and my words.

After this recent Palm Sunday service in Florida, my wife got in the car and said: "I could've sat there another two or three hours."

I guess I wouldn't go that far, but I felt joy in my heart and Christ's presence with me. That's a job well done, sir. Wish it could happen for me more than two Sundays out of the last 52.

We'll probably never move to Florida, but when we visit we know where we're going to church. Let me hear an "Allelujiah!"

Garden update

 Pepper seeds not doing so hot. Going on three weeks and I'm not happy with the germination. Maybe 30 percent when they should be at 70. I started them before we left for vacation, in the greenhouse but without the heat mats on. Turned those on when we got home. Thought it would be warm enough to get them going but maybe not.

Patience, maybe?

I started some purple coneflowers and black-eyed Susans a couple months ago for a new flower bed I built last fall. They are doing real well. Not sure when I want to plant them though. Winging it there. Will harden them off for a 10 days and maybe shoot for the 20th. We'll see.

The Easter table setting

Basil, orchid and tulip

The dogs annual trip to town

 Took the boys (aka Stanley and Huckleberry) for their annual trip to the veterinarian for their shots and check-up. It was particularly satisfying to take Stan, since three years ago this vet's prognosis for him was 2 weeks to 2 years to live with his cancer. She also recommended amputating his leg where the first cancer was found. But now he's going on 12 years old, a lot slower, a little grayer, and still has all four legs.

Though she might've called that one wrong (thankfully), I like our vet. She does a good job of explaining things and isn't in a rush to get out of the exam room.

However, things have changed there. They are still COVIDphobes at the clinic and have new procedures. Well, new since we were there last March.

You call from the parking lot when you arrive. A tech comes out and takes the dogs inside, one at a time. Then the doc calls you when both are done, explains stuff, answers questions, then transfers the call to the front desk which takes your credit card number over the phone.

It's actually pretty slick and quicker as they don't leave you sitting in the exam room with your dogs waiting for doctor. 

The boys are always very good. They know the routine. We walk in, sit and wait. Then they hop on the scale and we go to the exam room.

That's what Huck, the basset hound, thought was going to happen this time until he arrived at the door and noticed Stanley and I were still standing back beside the pickup. That's when the 65-pounds of muscle and torque decided he wasn't flying solo on this mission. It was funny. I thought he was going to pull the poor tech lady to New Underwood and there wasn't much she could do about it. So Stanley and I went to the door like we were going in too. Huck fell for it, as he's not the brightest bulb, and walked in while we turned around. What happened after that, I'm not sure, but he and they survived.

The doc called after both guys were done. Said Stanley had lost three pounds and Huck had gained them. Since they both get the same amount of exercise, I'm sure Stanley's loss is due to his cancer and Huck's gain is due to middle age.

But now everybody in the house is vaccinated and ready to party like it's 1999. 

Finished: McBain's 'The Gutter and the Grave'

 "The Gutter and the Grave" was originally published in 1958 and republished in 2011 by Hard Case Crime. It's a classic hard-boiled detective novel.

It has the drunken ex-cop, curvaceous women, guns, lots of booze and jazz bands. All the things that made life worth living in the 1950s.

Detective Matt Cordell was happily married once, and gainfully employed, and sober. But that was before he caught his wife cheating on him with one of his operatives and took it out on the man with the butt end of a .45.

Now Matt makes his home on the streets of New York and his only companions are the city’s bartenders. But trouble still knows how to find him, and when Johnny Bridges shows up from the old neighborhood, begging for Matt’s help, Cordell finds himself drawn into a case full of beautiful women and bloody murder. It’s just like the old days – only this time, when the beatings come, he may wind up on the receiving end...

I gave it a 7+ on the 10-point Haugenometer. Amazonians give it a stellar 4.3 of 5.

Finished: Block's "Tanner's Twelve Swingers"

Lawrence Block's Evan Tanner series is better than his Chip Harrison series. His Burglar series is better than both and his Matthew Scudder series is best of all.

"Tanner's Twelve Swingers" is obviously from the Evan Tanner series. The "swingers" are not what you'd expect them to be from Block's books of that era (1967), but actually are gymnasts. It was entertaining.

Lawrence Block's third book in his hilarious Tanner series is back...And this time the intrepid spy is up to his neck in a dozen leggy beauties and a life-and-death smuggling assignment out of the cold corners of Russia. 

A couple quotes I liked:

"Brains will get you guns, but guns will never get you brains."

"One has to do idiot things from time to time, if only to assure oneself that one is a human being and not a robot."

From Nietzsche: "The true maturity of man is to recapture the seriousness one had as a child at play."

I gave the book a 6 on the 10-point Haugenometer. Goodreaders gave it a 3.7 of 5.

On to the next one in the series ...

The Josey Wales rabbit solution

This rabbit situation has gotten out of hand. I've written about how they ruined my garden last year. For that I take partial responsibility as my fence was getting raggedy. I pulled up all my old fencing (about 200 feet worth) and am installing new smaller-holed stuff. I have to fortify for this coming spring because they are multiplying! Who ever heard of such a thing? Rabbits breeding like ... well, rabbits.

At the back of our house we have a drain field for the septic tank. Sounds gross, but it's not. Actually the grass grows twice as fast there and stays green for most of the year. Deer love it, rabbits love it. A month ago I looked out at it and saw six rabbits grazing. That's not counting my two tame fertilizer-machine rabbits I keep in a hutch. That's not counting, Milo, a rather tame wild rabbit who lives under our front porch and stays on that side of the house.

My wife claims it's because I feed them. Technically, I only feed my pet rabbits, Hank and Waylon. But they spill food, so the wild ones have taken to eating that and sleeping under the hutch out of the way of the wily owl who has reduced my mouse population to zero. 

It's gotten so bad, I even spotted a rabbit sitting in my bird bath!

So I've sprung into action. I have several methods of rabbit control in my house that could take care of the situation but they all make rather loud "boom"s, and I have one neighbor who would likely call the sheriff. (He has in the past when he saw my kid walking in the field across the road with a paintball gun! And one other instance I'll write about another day.)

I looked into pellet guns. Quieter. But despite outward appearances I really am a softy, so I went with another plan. I dusted off my box trap and decided to try that first.

I set it by the rabbit hutch, sprinkled some food inside and I've caught SIX rabbits in two weeks. Then I drove them a couple miles away and released them. That's my catch and release plan. I don't know if they are smart enough, or dumb enough depending on how you look at it, to make their way back here; but they are getting a chance. I'm stopping at six, so if any more show up, they're getting Plan B. Boom!

As Josey Wales said to Ten Bears: "I ain't promising you nothing extra. I'm just giving you life and you're giving me life. And I'm saying that men (and rabbits) can live together without butchering one another."

And somewhere down by Hart Ranch (a housing development on a golf course down the road), some poor retiree is asking his wife: "Where the hell did all these rabbits come from?!"

Finished Block's 'Chip Harrison Scores Again'

 Lawrence Block has a four-book series with the character Chip Harrison. Chip is young rambling man, a scamp, who isn't a very good person but tries to tell himself he is by being all introspective. He's really not a good guy.

It's an okay read as LB really brings the characters to life. I'm not sure if I like the character but he's interesting and keeps me reading. 

When young, broke, and single Chip Harrison finds a bus ticket to Bordentown, South Carolina, he knows it was sent by the hand of fate. It’s his way out of wintry New York City, and a way into the warm welcome of Bordentown’s sheriff! But before long, Chip charms his way into the sheriff’s good graces and into the arms of Lucille, the preacher’s daughter. Even Chip should see he is headed for trouble with a capital T.

This is the second book of the series. It was written in 1971 and seems pretty explicit even for the '70s. It's a bit shocking to read today too, as Block uses all the words he'd be "cancelled" for using today; like slurs for various minorities and mentally-challenged people. All the big ones. Surprised he hasn't taken some flak for it. 

While I think Block was trying to be humorous, the book came off as dark and gloomy. It made me sad for Chip Harrison and bit sad for Block. I think it's interesting to remember where a particular writer was in their life when they wrote something. This was written 50 years ago. Block was no doubt a different person than he portrays himself today. I've always assumed he went through a dark period in his life and am just guessing that this was written during that time. 

Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But maybe not.

Gave it a 6 of 10. It didn't do well with Goodreaders either, a 3.4 of 5.

Finished: Ian McEwan's 'On Chesil Beach'

 It's amazing to me how the same author can write books I thoroughly enjoy and books I loathe.

Ian McEwan's "On Chesil Beach" falls into the latter category. I barely made it through. It "tells the story of virgins, Florence and Edward, and their first disastrous attempt at having sex on their wedding night. The initial experience and their differing responses to the failure have lifelong consequences for both."

Unbelievably, it was selected for the 2007 Booker Prize shortlist. More unbelievably, they even made a movie out of it. 

Apparently this was a case of "it's not you, it's me." It was so dumb. It was't a romance, kind of the opposite. It wasn't a mystery. I don't know what it was except that it wasn't for me.

I gave it a 5 of 10 on the Haugenometer. Stupid Amazonians gave it a 4 of 5.

To make myself feel better about my opinion I read a few of the many 1-star reviews on Amazon. One said: "The worst book I ever read."

Another concluded: "I was as disappointed with the story as Edward was with his wedding night and as put off by Florence and her foolish, stilted behavior as she was with Edward. I would not recommend this book at all. Even a cereal box would be more appealing as reading material!"

Amen, brother! Pass the Cheerios.

The only endearing part of the entire fiasco was finding this tidbit on Wikipedia while researching for this lame post: In a BBC Radio 4 interview, McEwan admitted to taking a few pebbles from Chesil Beach and keeping them on his desk while he wrote the novel. Protests by conservationists and a threat by Weymouth and Portland borough council to fine him £2,000 led the author to return the pebbles. "I was not aware of having committed a crime," he said. "Chesil Beach is beautiful and I'm delighted to return the shingle to it."

Good, he should've been fined for writing this book. Pebbles be damned.

A fantasy league of their own

 Don't worry, this is not a post about fantasy baseball. That would bore you. This is a post about the goofy people enacting a reality show in my fantasy baseball league. Unlike my annual football league that is made up of relatives, this 12-team baseball league is a "public league" on Yahoo, meaning you're just dumped in with a bunch of strangers from around the country.

I've been in one every season for around 20 years. People give their team's goofy names and there's a message board to communicate. Typically, the board is seldom used except for the occasional "hey, anybody have shortstop they want to trade?" Last season, I don't think there was a single message posted.

But, oh, this season ...

We had our draft on Friday night. For those unfamiliar with the process, we used an auto-draft, where the computer picks for you based on how you ranked your players. The top player you have listed gets drafted if that player is available; if not it moves to the next one; and around and around it goes until about 20 players are drafted for each team. So it went off without a hitch, or so I thought, until Saturday morning. That's when one player took exception to the draft. 

Richard (aka Dick) posted a condescending message to the members: 

The draft that took place last night was the craziest draft that I have ever took part in, and I have been playing fantasy baseball for 20+, own and have a number of teams, and play in several high stake leagues with professionals (I don't mean for that to come off like a jerk, if it does I apologize). The draft last night was just insane. People were just picking random players out of the blue, sometimes 3-6 rounds higher than a player should have been drafted. I dont know how to explain it other than people weren't looking at ADP, or projections. I have nothing against getting the players you want, but just based on ADP, you could have gotten a better player in that spot and then still gotten your player 50 picks later. I went into the draft with a specific strategy for this league, so I couldn't take as much advantage as I would have liked. Anyway, its all in fun. I know baseball can be a long season, but for the other players in the league, but stay active, or at least check your team once a week, nothing worse than being in a league where 2 or 3 teams are just sitting there after the first month.

This was followed by a couple others telling him off. And then this one from 19-year-old team owner Marie:

I go to school in Texas and when draft time came I was blacked out and had no power. No live draft for me, so don't know what you are talking about. But I don't feel I have to apologies to you. I have enough problems not baseball draft related. If you can help me find a grocery store that has food on it's shelves, that will help me and I'll apologies if I ruined your draft.

Many followed with "thoughts and prayers" posts, and no I didn't mention she spelled "apologize" wrong. Richard apologized for offending her, but kind of double-down on his criticism of the rest of us and pointed out he was using some new draft strategy (he had a name for it but I forget). 

I, of course, had to weigh in:

Making friends fast there, Richard. Personally, I use the Jose Cuervo draft strategy. One shot before the first round, two shots before the 2nd round, etc. By the 10th round I was pissed I didn't get Kate Upton as catcher.

A few more team managers weighed in with supportive thoughts, before Marie decided to let loose, with emotion and life history:

Thanks for the kind words all. I'm in Georgetown Tx and today it got up to 72. Power is back and water pressure while week, I do have water. Problem now is trucks couldn't get through so grocery shelves are bare. I'm small and skinny so don't have fat to sustain me.

I'm from Vermont and when we had weather like this we had power and water and headed to the mountains to go skiing. Texas couldn't handle this. This was scary to me. I come from a large close family. I decided to go to college out of state as I admired two older sisters who did the same. While I: love Texas, this has not worked out for me. First Covid and now this. I have to admit I was scarred sitting in the dark in a freezing condo was not in my plans. Boy did I miss my dad. He kept calling but I couldn't recharge my phone. I wasn't prepared for this. It's nice to see the sun, I sat on my balcony and enjoyed it. Still had bird seed so the birds were active and gave me pleasure. Ironic they have food and I'm on strict rationing. 

Again thanks for the kind words. I will survive, I just hope Roots Bistro gets a delivery so I can walk down and get a cheeseburger, or better yet I could probably eat a whole pizza. They might even serve me a beer.

More messages of support flowed in from old guys trying to make the young gal feel better. Kudos to them. At least she and the birds are safe.

Myself? I felt more like I've fallen into a Kardashian episode. And the season hasn't even started! This should be fun.