I forget to check the weather. Unless I'm working in my garage workshop, I don't hear weather reports. First off this morning, I go to the NWS for Lacrosse. Before the entire map of Wisconsin can download, I point and click south of Interstate 90. In a stroke of luck I get 4 miles N/NE of Soldiers Grove. That would be North Clayton. R* B* lives there. He's the guy who asked Mountain Man Johann to come out and butcher a Yak that had died. He forgot to mention to Johann that the Yak died two days ago, coyotes had feasted on the tender morsels and presently, in the heart of winter, the carcass was frozen solid.
|Mountain Man Johann|
The forecast calls for sunshine today followed by thunderstorms tomorrow. It'll be "work until you drop" day.
Thus, I'll have to limit this to short snorts.I had a blog by that name once upon a time.
The Kwik Stop down on the highway is having an 30th anniversary celebration. Hot dogs and a soda are 25 cents. All the employees are dressed in baseball shirts. I stop in a sign up for the raffle. They're giving away a load of gravel. Two years ago, I began work on a patio on the north side of the house. It's purely decorative. I need the gravel to complete the project. We'll never sit on this patio since we hardly ever sit on the wrap around deck on the east side of the house.
I removed the silo block sidewalk around the house, lined them up nicely on a bed of leveled sand underlain with black plastic. Four feet below the surface I discovered a four inch thick slab of concrete. The company I hired to lay a new sidewalk couldn't break up the slab with a jack hammer and to my dismay, it sloped toward the house, acting as a water collector.
If the weather man gives us four sunny days in a row, Jorge and I will hit the county highway on our mountain bikes. I need to lose 30 pounds and to get off the bi-polar exercise routine. Work like a banshee, vegetate, look out the windows, curse and make up ridiculous art projects for my chicken wishbone collection.
Over the weekend, the local fire department is having a pancake supper. I need to attend as a show of support after they promptly put out a grass fire I accidentally started. I also want to meet the guys the chief labeled rookies who got lost on the way to our house. Then the same night, we'll be feasting on Middle Eastern Food at the recall ball for Dan Kapanke. Feast, then famine.