Saturday, March 14, 2015

Given that the liberal press and visual media is attacking FOX’s ORielly, and everyone seems busy eating themselves, I’ll confine myself to me.

After all, who else is as important.


I will apologize for missing yesterdays post. I was somewhat tied up with projects and physical projects at that and was whupped at the end.

Which just proves that sitting about during the winter “time off” isn’t all that good on a body.

All the fencing material was gathered. The freezer was stocked. Renters mom’s plot got tilled and the implement change went with a great deal of knuckle busting, mutters, and time expended.

In fact,  the two implement installations were the bugaboo. We started around five thirty in the afternoon  and finished about a quarter to nine. The tilling actually took twenty minutes work – including the travel times.

It appears that the grease I used when getting ready for the winter hiatus had hardened and we fought the universal joints and the PTO mechanism for most of the evening. The new “press the button, and push the universal onto the drive shaft” actually turned into push the button and wrestle the SOB for an hour.

I think this year I’ll be used an oil of some type rather than grease.

I’ve gotten the wheels of the three point finish mower freed up some what and hope it will not rust like it did last year. The tolerances Bush Hog uses for those shafts are very close and a little moisture squeezing into them rusts and binds very easily if the implement is allowed to sit for any length of time.

The village has been inundated by surveyors and trades folk of all stripes. They are tromping about marking gas lines, water lines and just about any lines of any description and planting little flags of various colors.

All for the implantation of the new water lines that caused our utility bills to double.

I had three Sirs of various ages climbing over my fences looking for a sewer line with the surveying equipment. Those lines I wrote about two or three years ago – that they looked for for two or three years prior to that and, for Gods sake, are still looking for.

I almost hope the magical sewer line continues to find ways of eluding the high tech equipment they’ve thrown at it all these years.

The mental image of a sewer wiggling about nine feet under ground escaping the “wicked” men disturbing its sleep tickles me.

As I’ve said, small pleasures for a small mind.


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s