Harvest!

Since buying my first home 40 years ago, I've nearly always had a veggie garden.  There's some truth to that old saying, 'you can take the boy out of the country but.......'  No matter the crop, there was always a little thrill in seeing the little green shoots break the ground surface about 10 days after planting.  Weeks later, it was especially gratifying to harvest the first crop and have the produce for dinner that very same day.  You can't get fresher than that and the flavor - yum! 
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Take your grocery store tomatoes and deport 'em back to their country of origin; they look great but I suspect that a used Domino's pizza box has more flavor.  Come to think of it, the box likely tastes better than the pizza, too.  Domino's is lousy.  Better yet, have a tomato fight: great exercise, lots of fun and delightfully messy!  A word of advice for the novice tomato hurler: wait until they are really ripe.  You want maximum mess and minimum bruising (of the people, not the tomatoes).  I digress.
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Now, growing our own veggies doesn't fit our life style.  But, citrus does well here so I decided to remove a ho-hum tree and replace it with citrus.  Ho-hum is the common name for the genus Buttuglyus - a huge family of boring, nondescript plants which have, for reasons unknown, an overpowering appeal to prior homeowners - the folks who owned the home before you.  Our LHC home was no exception, had several varieties of ho-hums.
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I planted the young citrus tree, a mandarin orange (Algerian clementine), in late spring, 2010.  We'll have our first orange harvest this month - only 9 oranges but not bad for a tree that's only 32" tall.  It will eventually reach 8-10' in height, and of course, will have larger crops.

Autumn

It was deeply imprinted in my youth, this love of the autumn season.  Come October, the crops had all been harvested on the Minnesota farm.  Birthing and shearing and numerous other livestock-care tasks were completed.  It meant that the frenzied 12-hour days of sweat and grime were over for a while.
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That's not all it meant, though.  The first frost came along and the plague of mosquitoes and flies went away.  The hot sticky weather ended and the outdoors became a place to enjoy rather than endure. We launched into glorious fall colors of oaks and maples and sumacs.  It meant hunting season had arrived - spending enjoyable hours tromping through the woods and fields in search of squirrels or game birds to grace the dinner table.  It meant going back to school and spending time with friends and classmates seldom if ever seen in summer months.
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And it meant food - which is what inspired me to draft this.  In autumn, images of rich fragrant stews and pot roasts come to mind and have me salivating in true Pavlovian fashion.  Back in the day, most produce was only available in season; come fall, there were fresh apples, oranges and other fruits to enjoy.  And, of course, there was Thanksgiving, the favorite American holiday.  Yes, that annual feast tends to be a gross overindulgence.  But it still has that great feel to it, the feel that comes from knowing the hard work is done, the harvest was good and family will be gathering to enjoy the bounty - and each other.
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Happy Thanksgiving everybody!  I have much to be thankful for and I hope you have also.

Jimmy

Jimmy crack corn and I don't care.

I don't think anybody else cares, either.

Jimmy always was kinda goofy.

Now, he's just sittin' out there crackin' corn.

Don't know what he plans to do with the cracked corn.

Don't think he does, either.

Jimmy needs help.

FAVs

My mate

Family

Friends

A sense of humor

Crunchy peanut butter

Mountains

Pulp fiction

Sunshine

Olives

Denim shirts

Naps

Streaming

Campfires

Single malt Scotch

Puns

Digital photography

Thunderstorms

Helicopters

BLTs

Cordless screwdrivers

Cutoffs

Pickleball

Stuffing

Smartphones

Travel

Wit

Online shopping

Habanero cheese

Words

Classic rock

Beer-butt chicken

Happy 40th!

Yesterday's parade was the 40th annual such event, honoring the birthday of the London Bridge here in LHC; it was completed in 1971.  Everybody loves a parade, they say.  But 'they' are wrong: I don't love 'em.  Was in too many when I was in the military, marching on scorching hot pavement, getting cooked in the sun, wearing heavy clothes, carrying a heavy rifle and assorted other crap, getting dehydrated, getting headaches.  No end to the fun.  I can handle watching one occasionally, though, especially if Trish and Ranger are in it.

The Marine band was near the front.  There are a lot of veterans in LHC and the Marine Auxiliary is large and active. 

Mr and Mrs Clyde, Omar and Abdul, Shriners all.  This shot and some of the others aren't very good cuz I was shooting into the sun. 

Little rigs with big Shriners.

Austin-Healey, the car I really wanted when I bought my first set of wheels.  Couldn't afford it, got a used MGB instead.  Couldn't afford that either, had to borrow from my Dad.

Didn't realize McC made flying chainsaws.

A pickup cozy?  In Arizona?  Huh!

Here come the Pet Partners!  Poodles dominated.

Foreground: old fat fart.  Background: Ranger and Mommy Dog working the crowd.

I'm late!  I'm late!

This is after half a night's sleep, leaving Vegas at 5 AM and driving to LHC.  Takes dedication - and a lot of energy.  Tired woman.

An impressive pre-high school band.  Sharply dressed and great little musicians.

Finis.

Off to the Races

Above and below is the first race we saw, a women's event.

Getting the checkered flag.

 Lake Havasu is the venue for numerous boating events and races, ranging from small remote-controlled model boats up to unlimited off-shore behemoths with 1000s of horses.  There's no speed limit on this lake.  Put the peddle to the metal, Babe!  Last week the event was the world finals in jet ski racing with 30+ categories of competition.  Yesterday we packed a lunch and our folding chairs down to the island to watch a couple hours of the action.
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At noon they sang the national anthem, followed by a flyover of 4 Marine fighter jets out of San Diego. Forgot how loud those buggers can be close up; poor Ranger went apeshit.

Large crowd, dozens of vendor and food tents, city in background.

Hydro Man above and below.  A large (6"? diameter; 50' long) hose is tethered between harness and floating power source (motor and pump).  It can push the rider up to 30' in the air or along the surface at a pretty good clip.  Reminds me of a character in a Spiderman movie.  Or was it Batman?  Superman?  Chickenman?  Dipstickman?  No, pretty sure it was Spidey.

 

WMDs

Guys, you know the drill when it comes to painting a house: pressure wash, scrape and brush, calk, prime the bare spots, 2 coats of paint, have a brewski.  And, you also know that women go through a similar routine every morning when they ‘put on their face’ (often, less the brewski).  We don’t know, however - at least I don’t - how many coats of whatever go wherever when women do their thing.  Frankly, it’s best that we don’t.  This is a mystery that doesn’t need solving.
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Another thing I didn’t know and didn’t want to know is that among women’s myriad tools and devices for applying said faces is a free-standing mirror.  And, the thing I most didn’t want to know is this: one side of that mirror magnifies.  A lot!  Most folks are wearing glasses by the time they’re 45.  This is a curse in some ways but a blessing in others.  One blessing is that our eyesight continues southward as we age, thereby sparing us the emotional and psychological trauma of actually seeing our deteriorating faces when we look in the mirror.
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One recent fateful morning, Trish had things all laid out on the counter, ready to put on said face; before starting though, she decided she’d better walk Ranger.  All unawares, I walked by the counter and got a glimpse of myself in the mirror - the magnifying side of the mirror.  HOLY CRAP!  Nearly had a stroke.  There they were in all their glory: all the blemishes, all the wrinkles, all the wild hairs spurting out of my nose and ears - all the stuff I was blissfully unaware of from my daily glimpses at conventional mirrors, sans glasses.
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After changing my underwear, I sat on the edge of the bed and as my heartbeat returned to normal, I reflected (you knew that was coming) on this horrific event.  The humane thing to do, I thought, is to get the word out on these ............ these domestic WMDs of self-image.  So, pay attention, guys: if your main squeeze has a makeup mirror, give it a wide berth.  Steer clear of all known or suspected face-application areas. If you’re unsure about the safety of a particular room or area, have a youngster precede you.  Enter only after you hear the kid shout ‘CLEAR!’
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Going a step further, we need to act!  We need to protect future generations from these WMDs.  We gotta track down the purveyors of these devices, destroy their inventory, and level their manufacturing plants.  The purveyors, of course, should be put on trial for crimes against humanity.