I'm Getting Too Old for This Shit

I can always tell when spring officially rolls in because I start having migraines. I've had a couple in the past few days, fortunately not too severe. Inevitably, in spring and fall, the changes in weather seem to play hell with my system, and that is when the migraines are pretty much guaranteed. At least they're not as bad as they were some years ago, when they regularly knocked me down and out for at least a full day.

 

There are woods all around our house, so in the fall, the leaves that gather in the yard are prodigious. We tend to clean them up about every other year, and we skipped this past fall. They do gather pretty deep in the lower yard out back, though, so I figured that, as part of my regular spring cleaning, I'd take care of them today. Not surprisingly, this turned out to be a masochistic, awful thing to do. It took me about three and a half hours to blow out the garage, the driveway, and the lower yard, which was covered by as much as two feet of leaves in places. Now, I feel like my back is permanently stooped. I'm getting too old for this shit.

 

There used to be grass back there, but as the trees have grown and cast more shade over the backyard — not to mention the frequent gullywashers that flood the low-lying areas in the summertime—grass does not grow happily back there. Right now, there's some lovely dirt though.

 

Remember, tomorrow is the grand opening of Eden's Ember Bookshop in Eden, NC, at 729 South Van Buren Road, Eden, NC, and I'll be there signing books from 12:00 p.m. to 2:30 p.m. Stop by if you can! 

"It's Pitch White Outside!"

Our solar lights are wearing little Cossack hats

Indeed, in the immortal words of The Peanuts' Linus Van Pelt, "It's pitch white outside!" While last week's winter storm didn't bring much snow, it left a two-inch-thick sheet of ice all over everything, and almost none of it has melted. Currently, at just past noon, we've got about six inches of the white stuff on top of the ice, and it's still coming down hard. I reckon we're gonna be holed up here until the temperatures rise sometime next week.

 

Yesterday afternoon, before the snowfall began in earnest, Brugger and I went out in her car (mine has been garage-bound since the ice storm and probably will be for a good many more days) to run some necessary errands and have a couple of glasses of wine at nearby Hamlet Kitchen. It was nice to have a brief spell out and about before we're completely snowbound—and, to our surprise—our friend Yvonne popped in and had some wine with us. Back home, we again had to park Brugger's car at the bottom of the driveway, since it was still a solid sheet of ice, and unfortunately, on the way up to the house, I took a spill and banged up one knee pretty good. I'm fine, if a little ornery; mostly, I'm glad our neighbors weren't out to witness the brief comedy sketch (though they might have heard some colorful descriptors of the situation wafting skyward).

 

As with last week's storm, I very much hope we don't lose power, as there won't be any quick fixes under these conditions. The snow itself is just fine powder, and there are no cars out there—at least not nearby—likely to knock out any power poles. I'm X'ing all my appendages.

 

Till laters.

Solar light starbursts last night before the snow covered them over. Below, some photos
Brugger took of the white outdoors and a couple of pics after dark

Not Exactly a Snowpocalypse

Saturday night ice accumulating on the paved surfaces

The weather reports for the weekend were all pretty dire, and some places did get hit hard with snow, ice, and wind. What we got was mostly sleet and light snow, which, now that it's over with, has formed a dangerously hard and slippery sheet of ice. At this point, at least, most of the roads are clear enough to travel. Our driveway, however, is a different story. At least an inch of ice has rendered it completely unusable. Last night, I managed to get the trash can down to the street so the trash would get picked up this morning. This morning, though, I could not get the can back up the driveway. Every time I set foot on the ice, I'd slide down the incline back toward the street. Fortunately, I'd thought to bring my hiking stick with a sharp tip, so using it, I was finally able to get over the worst of the hump and back to the house. I'd actually feared for a bit there that I literally couldn't make it up the sheet of ice. 

 

Happily, Brugger made it safely home this afternoon from her (extra-long) weekend retreat in Asheville, NC. She didn't encounter any problems on the road until she arrived in town—and at our driveway. She managed to get the car just a few feet in, enough so that it's not hanging out on the street. I wouldn't go leaning on it, though, else it might go sliding.

 

During Ms. B.'s absence, the cats and I managed pretty well. I got in a lot of writing, a few movies, some strenuous exercise, and an argument on Facebook that prompted me to boot someone of my acquaintance from our Greensboro days. This was a person I'd known in the flesh for several years, and despite the fact she's a pretty hardcore conservative, we generally managed to get along. However, on more than one occasion, I would put considerable thought into a diplomatic and 100% factual response to some of her blathering, but then things would go south from there. So, yesterday, after just such a post of mine, she goes and puts up one of the most blatantly false articles in existence about the "lies of the left" regarding the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pritti. I confess I really lost my temper in a PM to her, and I'm not proud of that; however, after the horrific events of the past couple of weeks, and the worse-than-egregious lies from the "administration" (i.e., these people were domestic terrorists and intended to harm agents involved in an official operation), I am over and done with those blatant lies and those who either swallow or propagate them. At the end of the day, I am better off without her half-brained "reasoning" to rile me, and she's better off without having to suffer my temper.

C'est la vie.

 

Anyway, I am intensely thankful that the big storm wasn't the nightmare it originally portended. More than anything, though, I am glad that Ms. B. is back home. Hopefully, tomorrow, some of that ice will start melting.

Sunday morning white stuff — a wee soupçon

A sneaky mountain lion looking to steal my breakfast

Let It Snow... (Again)

Literally, a few hours after the last of the snow from the other day melted, bit more fell today—about the same amount we had the first time. This evening, I decided to go walkies around the neighborhood to look at the holiday decorations. There's a pretty good many around, and that makes me happy because I love seeing the neighborhood all done up. It's pretty cold out there, but once I got moving, I felt plenty comfortable.

 

I was most curious to see how our lit-up trees in the woods behind our house looked from other vantage points. There are several areas on the neighboring streets from which I can see them, and they really do look great—kind of like a bunch of fiery creepy crawlies from another dimension.

 

As they should.

 

Our next-door neighbors have a nicely decorated place, and they put some lights of their own around the edge of the woods next to us. So, we have what looks like a convocation of spritely spirits out there, and I heartily approve.

The lights in the woods seen from our driveway; they're to the right of the house in the photo above, just out of the camera's view.

Our next-door neighbors' place and some of their outdoor lights, seen from in the woods.

Since Brugger is in Michigan, I took the opportunity to wrap her Christmas presents today and put them under the tree. I always label them clearly, so that, come Christmas Day, there is no confusion about what belongs to whom.

Let It Snow...

Well, we got a wee bit of the white stuff overnight. Predictions ranged from one to five inches, and ours was about one and a half inches. It is right purty out, and at the moment, the sky looks like it's wanting to dump some more, though I don't believe there's any additional in the forecast. That may or may not mean diddly. I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more anyway.

Brugger is at her folks' place in Michigan, so it stands to reason we'd get snow here. In the past three years, every time we've gotten snow in Martinsville, she's been in Michigan. I think she believes we don't really get any snow, and the local folks are just joking with her. Of course, she's got plenty of snow up where she is, so she ain't missing much.

The roads aren't too bad out there, but since I don't have to go anywhere, I can just enjoy the view from home. As long as things don't get ugly enough for us to lose power or anything, I reckon I'm happy as I can be. Now, the cats are sure enjoying piling onto me while I'm trying to write, so forward progress on my current project has been kinda slow...

No need to laugh—though you certainly can if you like—but I've been getting in the mood to watch some old Christmas shows, and the night before last, I watched the Rankin/Bass Frosty the Snowman from 1969. I didn't like it any better now than I did back then, but hey, it fulfilled a craving. I'll probably watch The Grinch, and maybe Rudolph - The Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Ms. B. and I watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! every year at Christmastime because we just gotta. But because I was in a Rankin/Bass mood the other night, I also watched Mad Monster Party, which I loved as a kid, though now it's a bit harder to sit through. Still, it too fulfilled a craving.

It's Starting to Look a Bit Like Christmas

Black Friday is when I typically start decorating for Christmas, and so it was this year. I do love the festiveness of the Christmas season, and Brugger and I always try to do up the house as best we can. We both have a bunch of decorative stuff from our days of living in our separate places, and there's a good bit that Mom had in the house. Mom's decorations were always nice, but fairly low-key. Ms. B. and I tend shoot for at least slightly more extravagant.

Autumn Woods, Unexpected Stashes

The backyard is looking pretty nice

For well over two years now, I haven't missed a single day of walking and/or running at least three miles, usually a good bit more than that. Fall is my favorite time to take long walks around the neighborhood (except maybe sometimes when it snows). This year, we don't seem to have as many varying colors of foliage as we sometimes do, but it's still pretty, and the temperature is pleasant. We have woods on three sides of our lot as well as on the far side of the street out front, so we're surrounded by nature.

 

Lake Lanier is a small lake just down the street from us, and I walk there frequently. There's a smaller, adjacent body of water that we locals have always called "The Little Lake," and beyond it, a stretch of woods between two roads about a mile long. When I was a kid, several friends and I frequently played among those woods (mostly as soldiers who fought against the giant monsters that lived out there), and in my teenage years, we rode minibikes and motorcycles on the trail that snaked through the woods.

 

There's still a trail back there, now used mostly by our sizable deer population. Once in a while, I take a walk back there, and today was just the day for it. The terrain has changed somewhat over the years; the trees are denser and taller, but there's far less undergrowth. Back in the old days, the ground was largely covered by tall reeds and flowering plants, which gave it a more jungle-like appearance. During my adolescence, when I was so smitten with the daikaiju movies of the day, like Destroy All Monsters and War of the Gargantuas, we always kept a sharp eye out for monsters, and our BB guns at the ready (yes, they were very powerful, anti-monster BB guns).

When I was 11 or 12 years old, what I didn't count on finding back there was a stash of the most grotesque porn magazines possible—mostly about bestiality. The graphic photos and stories of animals, mostly horses and dogs, having sex with young girls were pretty traumatic. I was with a couple of young friends at the time, and I think we ended up burning them. I never had any idea which neighbor had hidden the magazines in a plastic bag in a hollow tree, but whoever it was must have been pretty sick.

 

The memories of fighting monsters in those woods are far more pleasant. And nowadays, it's a tranquil and lovely place to engage with nature.

O Ugly Bird

Well, here's something I don't get to do every day. A little while ago, I saw down by the creek across the road a turkey vulture hung up in something, struggling to get free. I grabbed my machete and folding knife, went down there to check it out, and found that the bird's legs and one wing were tangled in fishing line, which was dangling from a tree. About then, Dr. Joe Keiper, who works at the Virginia Museum of Natural History here in town, happened to be driving by, so he came down and, with a forked stick, was able to keep the bird pinned so I could cut the fishing line. The critter was pretty well exhausted, I think, so it lay there calmly as we worked. Together, we managed to get all the fishing line untangled and removed. Birdo flies off like nothing ever happened.

Damned ugly fellow (the bird, not Joe), but I'm very glad things ended well enough for it.

Back in the Shadows Again

I recently wrote on this blog that I’m getting too old for this shit, and I’m thinking I might swipe that line from Danny Glover on a more permanent basis. Whew! Brugger and I are well into getting the Martinsville house restored, although there are still weeks and weeks’ worth of (expensive) work left ahead of us. Today, it’s the new roof. Concurrently, we’re trying to whip the Greensboro house into saleable condition, which is also anything but a small (or inexpensive) job. Since all this restoration work began back in April, I’ve been going to bed each evening mostly satisfied with the progress we’re making, but so sore of muscle and bone that getting a solid night’s sleep is possible only occasionally.

Still, there’s so much cool stuff happening. It was nice to get some of my old books—all the James Bond novels (and certain associated titles), the Dark Shadows novels (and certain associated titles)—back into the old homestead where they and I grew up together. The Bond books, at least all the old Signet editions, are back on the same shelf in the den where I discovered them as a youngster, when they belonged to my dad. It was in that same den that I first started watching Dark Shadows on a regular basis (right at the start of the Leviathans storyline in 1969), so I’ve put all the Dark Shadows books together on the shelf below the Bond books. And, for shits & giggles, I’ve started rewatching the Dark Shadows Leviathans episodes on Freevee.

The other day, I dug up an envelope, which I feared had gone forever missing, of old love letters (as well as a few that expressed something distinctly other than love) from certain young ladies in my junior high and high school years. Marybeth, Gretchen, DeeDee, and Courtney... it’s so nice to read all those lovely sentiments again, haha.

We’re holding an estate sale this weekend, Saturday, 5/20 and Sunday, 5/21, from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. each day. Here’s the Facebook listing for it: Estate Sale, 5/20–5/21. If you’re in the vicinity, stop on by.

Some of the James Bond novels, the original Signet editions of which now re-reside on their original shelf
in my dad’s old den

More Discoveries

I never thought I would grow weary of finding keepsakes from days of yore, but the sheer number of keepsakes that keep turning up at the old homestead has about done me in. Some of them, at least, are absolutely agreeable, especially the occasional old photo I didn't know (or had forgotten) existed, lots of half-forgotten toys, and scads of my artwork. I discovered a couple more pen & ink drawings from the late 80s/early 90s, which you see above. The critter is Gaira from War of the Gargantuas, my favorite of Toho's non-Godzilla daikaiju flicks. The haunted house is a place my brother and I happened upon while exploring the wilds of Henry County back around 1991. I took quite a few photos of the creepy old place and then made a drawing of it.

I'm reasonably fond of these, so I appreciated actually seeing them again. I remembered them, but I had no idea where they lurked or whether I'd ever see them again. So... yay!

A Perfect Storm

A much-needed evening oasis at friend Samaire’s place

Sigh. I was going to sit here and elaborate on how stressful and even traumatic some of the snowballing issues that have beset Brugger and me over the past month or so have been (I did, in fact, compose a considerable number of words on the subject). I deleted the bulk of them because it all began to sound like a great big whine. Still, I can’t help it; here is a bit of that post, abridged.

For me, April has historically been the worst month in existence, since it’s in April that I lost my dad, more good friends than the law ought to allow, and the majority of my many beloved pets. Beyond that, it’s in April that the universe, with perverse glee, releases the storm of misfortune it has saved up for us over the course of the preceding year with a great big “BLAM!”

This year, the horrendous sewer line issues that hit us, beginning in March (of which some of you are at least aware, since I did whine a bit), seemed to set off a veritable freight train of new and damn near catastrophically expensive issues.

However, as I wrote this little treatise, it all began to sound like a big whine. Now, on occasion (sometimes on frequent occasions), I have been known to vent. Anyone who has heard me vent will almost certainly testify that, to the chronic pessimist, my vent is a thing of rare beauty. Conversely, to the blissful live-for-today-first-world-problems-mean-naught-zen-is-good kind of soul (or simply the uninitiated), more a display of explosive horror (or perhaps amusement, in the way that a spectacular self-inflicted injury can make one chuckle). All that said, there is little more I hate than coming across as a fucking crybaby. Life can be a goddamn bitch, and I know damn well that many, MANY folks would trade places with me in an instant. I’m not without some degree of self-awareness.

Still, in the spirit of my original post, suffice it to say that I’m gonna call this April a pilgrimage to the summit of Fuck-This-Goddamn-Motherfucking-Bullshit-Fucking-What-the-Fuckity-Fuck Mountain. To the more level-headed, even-tempered souls among you (however deluded you might be), this was a mere uptick in the severity of pretty-damned-severe first-world problems.

There were good things. In fact, many good things. Most recently, Scares That Care AuthorCon II was one of the best events ever, as far as affirming my life choices as a writer. Similarly, Shortwave Publishing announced what I feel is one of the most important creative projects I’ve overseen, the next chapter in the history of Deathrealm, a brainchild of mine from almost four decades ago. I sold a couple of short stories. And this April saw some lovely times with good, GOOD friends, which helped me realign my sights on what’s really important.

Well, okay, yeah, I’ve still whined (and I’ll do it again, maybe soon). But this one is fucking done. At least April is, until next year, history.

Ain’t That the Shit, Part 2 (Finale, Hopefully)

After spending a full workweek installing a new sewer line at our house, the crew finished up late Friday afternoon, so Brugger and I headed back from our somewhat extended sojourn in Martinsville. The front yard overall is a bit of a muddy, mucky mess, but the guys re-seeded and put straw down, so I very much hope it will return to its former glory (read with distinct irony) in a relatively short time.

So, at long last, we are able to flush again. Oh, wait... no we’re not! Now the downstairs toilet does not refill after flushing. The water in the rest of the house seems okay. So, we immediately recall the guys, who show up again, much to our mutual chagrin. Apparently, during the job, they inadvertently cut (and then repaired) our main supply line, but somewhere in the process, the fill valve in the downstairs toilet blew. Anyway, since that was clearly a consequence of the work, they repaired it, and I so hope this insanely expensive job is done and we will never have to deal with such a thing again in our lifetimes.

They did have to saw off about half the concrete from the driveway where Brugger typically parks her car, so it would behoove us to restore that, I reckon. The big honking excavator should vacate the property come Monday.

And now I have a yucky cold. At least, I think (and hope) that’s all it is. The covidz test was negative.

For now, I is done.

It’s enough to turn some of us into a basket case.

Ain’t That the Shit, Part 1 (Probably)

Water troubles in the homeplace have always been the bane of my existence. Sometimes, I really hate the fact that water is among life’s critical elements because it has caused the single most financially crippling issues ever since I became a homeowner, way back in the dark ages. Flooding, clogged pipes, broken pipes, backed-up sewer lines, and — in this case — a broken sewer line.

The worst problem here is that, originally, the builders ran our sewer line run far onto the adjacent property, and the break is under our neighbors’ driveway. We had a couple of well-rated plumbing firms come out, and both told us we'd need a whole new sewer line cut on our property, as the code is now such that it can't extend onto the neighbors (and I suspect it might have been that way when the houses were built; of course, the builder is now long gone).

Because our house lies down a steep hill, the sewer line is very long and very deep where it connects with the city line at the street. The exact words of both companies describing this situation were “Worst-case scenario.” One company was somewhat less expensive, but they did not seem as thorough in their evaluation or as knowledgeable about working at the depth necessary. The current complication is that they’ve encountered a massive layer of bedrock between the surface and where the line has to go (which is probably why the builders routed it the way they did at the time).

In any event, the financial damage is monstrous, and the front yard — what remains of it — is currently a disaster. It will cost another small fortune to restore it to any sort of respectable state, since the work crew isn’t obliged to do much more than fill the (currently) hazardously deep pit that occupies the entirety of the upper eastern quadrant of our lot.

I’m certain there will be more lovely updates to come. Stay tuned, especially if you enjoy chuckling at others’ tribulations (no guilt here, for I have done so; well, sort of; maybe).

Till then.

Our Shadowed Past and Other Dark Doodads

In the weeks prior to our leaving for Europe, I did some design and layout work on a book project for friend Bob Issel, who has overseen countless Dark Shadows fan gatherings for the past three-plus decades. Our Shadowed Past is a collection of essays and photographs — over 300 pages of them — from over a hundred longtime Dark Shadows fans, including me. A dozen or so fans who regularly hung out at the ABC studio in New York City where Dark Shadows was produced offer their entertaining recollections, and a few of the show's original cast members — including Lara Parker, Kathryn Leigh Scott, Sharon Smythe, James Storm, and Marie Wallace — provide unique perspectives on their Dark Shadows days as well. To receive ordering information, contact Bob Issel at Bobusbas59@gmail.com. The cost is $27.00 plus postage.

It's been a somewhat hectic week since our return from the continent. We had a new storage shed built to replace our ancient, damn-near-collapsed shed, though, for the moment, the original one is still out there. Thus, the epithet "Two Sheds," which friend and fellow Japanese Giants Guy Ed Godziszewki had bestowed upon me (a la Monty Python) a great many years ago does today hold true. Prior to the new shed's installation, friend Terry and I put in a couple of afternoons' work setting up stone columns to level the lot. Shed is now complete, and there are even a few things already concealed inside it. (Did I say bodies? I didn't mean to say bodies.)

I spent a portion of this weekend in Martinsville, and while trying to find some material for the interview I did for Brett Homenick (DOCUMENTING GIANTS FROM JAPAN! Stephen Mark Rainey on Creating the Celebrated Fanzine Japanese Giants!) I happened upon a couple of old reports I wrote in junior high school about Japan and World War II. I even illustrated them (not necessarily well.) Those were kind of fun to look back on.

Last night, Ms. B. and I went to No Time to Die, the latest 007 film. I generally liked it, though from Skyfall on, I've had a hard time getting on board with the direction the series has taken. I may give it the old review treatment at some point, if I can find the time. That won't be very soon. We also found a fantastic dinner at Lindley Park Filling Station, which we haven't visited in ages — mostly because the little place is usually too crowded to get in. We managed it last night, though, and the ghost pepper burger I had was heavenly.

Today was a regular Sunday geocaching day. Old Rob, Old Scott, and I headed down Salisbury way to go after a bunch of newer hides in nearby Dan Nicholas Park. We got in some serious hiking, found a dozen traditional caches as well as an Adventure Lab cache, and had lunch at The Smoke Pit, which is my favorite BBQ restaurant anywhere.

I don't know that the pace will slow this coming week. We shall see.

Something from Area 51 in the woods at Dan Nicholas Park?

National Cemetery in Salisbury, where we found a nice Adventure Lab cache