What Is It Doing to Your Body?

Grease is a sewer system's worse nightmare. Coupled with yeast and you have, what a good friend of mine would call, a clusterfuckation.

Fairfax County, Virginia officials have been dealing with such an event for several years and once they found the culprit, the county filed a lawsuit to force the company responsible to pay for the necessary repairs.

Krispy Kreme says the county doesn’t have any proof the grease is theirs – despite the trail of poly tri-glycerides leading from the company’s plant in Lorton and therefore shouldn’t be responsible for the $1.9 million bill.

County officials meanwhile said the clogged pipes allowed raw sewage to escape onto the surface in several places.

If the grease can clog a sewer main, just think what it can do to your arteries.

Farewell SHS

Today marks another milestone in the life of Dirtymon and SisIggy as Heir II embarks on his final day as a student at Strasburg High School. Sure he doesn't graduate until next Friday but his last actual class ends at around 3:20 pm today.

Next up will be baccalaurate on Sunday afternoon at Liberty Baptist. He says he's not interested but I bet he'll be there only because Caisee will be there and because, it's the right thing to do. Later Sunday will be the Academic Awards assembly at the school.

Wednesday is the Athletic Banquet where Joe gets to shed some of his geekiness to sit with the Cross Country Team. At least he picked a sport that allowed the geekiness to show a little.

He hasn't said anything but I wouldn't be surprised he has band practice Thursday since the band will be playing the National Anthem and the School Anthem (Shenandoah) at the graduation ceremony.

And then Friday night, after the last recessional, Heir II's status will change from a big fish in a little pond to a little fish in a small pond. He'll have four-plus years ahead of him at Roanoke College to once again be one of the big fishes.

But this morn don't be surprised to see Sis shed a tear or two when the Heir walks out the door. Just like she did five years ago when, as an eighth-grader, Heir II saw him get on Bus 37 for the first time. No wonder she wanted to homeschool him the first eight years of his learning experience.

RIP, Dear Friend

I learned the passing of a dear friend Wednesday, after what appears to have been a lengthy, slow and agonizing demise. I also learned only a few friends were around for her at the end but now the news has spread near and far, people are flocking to say their fond farewells and wonder, what if anything could have been done to prolong life.

Of course, I'm talking about The Clarke Courier, a 140-year-old weekly newspaper located in Berryville, VA. I had the honor of working part-time for the paper back in the late 80s and early 90s, becoming Sports Editor by default.

Like many businesses in these trying times it was hard trying to find or keep a client base. In newspapers, that base was fellow businesses and their advertising dollars or the lack thereof, that seems to have been the final blow.

The editor at the time, Val VanMeter, let me have free rein of the sports department (how much damage could I do when on a good week I had one whole page sans ads (126 column inches) and if I was really lucky and the only high school had several teams doing well, an extra half-page. I learned to barter with Louie Ebert, our General Manager and head of the ad department as he was the one who ultimately let me have my space.

Val also humored me by allowing me to occasionally write a regular news article (auto wrecks and fires were big ones) and on election nights, she let me help write the actual local election story.

But the biggest appeal to working at The Courier was working side-by-side with my wife, SisIggy, who was the paper's general assignment writer. Sis went with me on many a local high school athletic event where I took the necessary stats needed to produce a 15-inch story, and she - with camera in hand - taking action shots for the lone sports page.

Several years into the gig we even took our oldest son, Heir I with us, strapped in a backpack as we walked the football sidelines.

Val always had a summer picnic at her house for all the reporters and staff. She even invited back those who had gone onto better gigs and at one of these affairs we decided we decided to call ourselves TWITS (I don't know if anyone knew why then and, 20-plus years later, I know they don't know now).

We stopped having them in the mid 90s as our core group left but now the paper has had its swan song maybe its time to bring back the summer outing as there are more twits - the staffers who put in long hours for the past nine months - only to wake up and find themselves out of a job.

At least, we left voluntarily.

Dear Heloise,

Thought I would drop you a quick line to give your readers a sure-fire hint to clean a stubborn, dirty kitchen floor that's been bombarded by six muddy dogs (after three days of rain), two teenage boys and one Dirtymon.

All you need to do is fill a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes, walk away from it for about five minutes and upon your return, the floor will be covered with approximately two inches of hot, sudsy water.

Then take a mop and bucket, soaking up the excess water. A wet-dry vacuum will also help followed by a roll of paper towels to eradicate the floor of the final vestiges of water.

When all is said and done, you will have a pristine floor clean enough to eat off of (at least until the six dogs, two boys and the Dirtymon returns.

No Pit Bull Adoptions / Winchester - tv3winchester.com

No Pit Bull Adoptions / Winchester - tv3winchester.com

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The above article once again shows the unfortunate power of PETA (ie., the Norfolk-based animal-rescue group) and unsuspecting judges who are bazzled by that organization's zealots who call themselves lawyers.

PETA is no more a rescue group than it is a KILL-SHELTER.

When It Rains Here in Dirtymon - Land, We Celebrate

Here in Dirtymon Land we're finding new and low-cost (for us anyway) ways to celebrate the pending graduation of Heir II from high school. Who needs to buy celebratory balloons that will pop and be nothing when you can have self-sealing bubbles that re-appear each time we get an inch of rain.

This first one arrived several weeks ago when we were in the beginning of monsoon season. We caught it just as the weight of the water was too much for elasticity and the remnants flowed down the wall onto the fireplace hearth, thus no photographic memory.

The second appeared yesterday during the height of our latest storm and we saw it in time to grab the camera and get this neat photo -- as if we needed physical evidence to show our landlord. Moments later, it too burst and flowed along the inside bricks of the chimney, down the safety screen before puddling on the hearth.

We informed our landlord the first time and will show him photos this time. He's been busy of late what with providing us with a good kind of water. We know he'll find the source in due time, though he may have to wait for another heavy downpour to pinpoint it.

In the interim, we'll keep the camera ready as the Heir's date with destiny nears. We wouldn't want to prevent H-II from any less acts of celebration.

Every Garden Needs A Layout

When I was younger I sold American seeds to all my friends and relatives. As I grew older, I looked forward to the catalogs published by Burpee and Southern States, especially to look at their garden layouts and newest gadgets to make the task easier.

When I taught Agriculture a lifetime ago, I had my students prepare a garden layout for one of their class assignments. The purpose - before planting - was to determine whether everything would fit and to keep certain plantings separate to prevent cross-pollination (peppers and tomatoes, for example).

I did a layout for my garden too. The only difference is I did it after the fact. Hope the gardening Gods don't hold it against me.

Yikes! The Creature Known As Dirtium Maxus Has Found Its Way to Virginia

It was just as Dark Garden described him and apparently, the creature John Boy said he thought he saw several weeks ago in Maryland has migrated south. Standing down in the west 40 this morning I saw this surreal, hairy creature hunched over my garden area that was supposed to be planted today.

He was as rotund as he was tall. He had grayish-brown hair all over his head, back, chest and even the legs had folicles of hair. And just like the sighting from DG, this creature had orange, web-feet.

I wanted to escape; get as far from him as quickly as possible. But something drew me towards him and that's when I saw the creature actually had a nice side to him -- he was planting my garden for me.

I hollered to SisIggy to fetch the camera while I grabbed our camping chairs and a pitcher of mint julips. We set the chairs in the shade and watched the big fellar get to work.

First he raked the clods left over from disking the ground. The he set rows and then began planting. First there were two rows of lettuce. Next came 1 3/4-rows of onions with a small patch of chive. He also gave us peppers, more onions, collards, radish, cukes, squash, and a bunch of tomatoes.

The creature didn't plant any corn but it did leave us room for six rows of SilverQueen. I only hope he comes back tomorrow and finishes the job.

As it finished the last of the plantings, it sat down on a drywall compound bucket and began making grunting noises.

Finally, it tried to stand but remained hunched over as it waddled off towards the neighbor's hay field.

As we watched it continue to walk, it began to straighten up and when it was erect, we saw it was an imposing creature even as it scratched its ass towards the setting sun.

Dad To The Rescue - Again

All it takes is a phone call and he drops whatever he's doing and gets in the car and drives the 35 or so miles to our place to get us out of another bind.

That's my dad. And, unfortunately, I don't say thank you enough.

When we moved into these new digs a year ago I brought along my self-propelled mower, which was OK for a small yard. But, here at Dirtmanland, we have almost an acre of grass to mow on a weekly basis.

And with two Heirs unwilling to mow -- even when their mother attempted to do it to help me out -- we knew a rider was needed.

We were rescued by my dad, who brought us an antique rider he had in storage. He told us then, that with a little TLC, the Murray would last us through the crisis.

It did last year and for several mowings this spring until the mower blade belt gave way. Fortunately, dad had a spare he had bought years ago when he was told Murray parts and belts would no longer be available.

He came within an hour, installed said belt and we were back in action.

Meanwhile, I scoured the 'Net and found one could still buy Murray parts online. With that info, Dad asked a friend in the business whether he could get parts and presto, today dad arrived with a new pully assembly that won't chew up belts.

We got the south 40 and the east 40 mowed this afternoon after he left with a portable jack to fix for us. I'm sure I told him thank you but if I didn't, I'll do it here -- again -- because I don't know how we would have survived without his - and mom's assistance.

Darwinius Dirtmusilix Foo Boosalix

Sometimes, it's better just to let fellow bloggers have the last word (for now, at least).

What Do You Call SisIggy When She Gets a Sun Tan?

Italian Roast, silly.

Seriously, I found this on the Eight O'Clock coffee web site recently. We have drank this variety. Usually we drink the French Roast but I bought a bag for SisIg's Mother's Day present and it arrived a few days late.

We tried it the next morning and found it really good. Too good to be exact. Not your everyday coffee for sure, but one savored for special occasions.

Tolerating Ants

Several days ago while admiring the peonies growing in our side yard from my desk I thought I saw an ant on one of the buds. Going outside for a closer look, this is what I found:

Oh great, I thought. Now I need to spray the peonies before the ants invade us again on the inside of the house. We had a big infestation earlier this spring and it took a mountain of bug killer to rid us of the creatures.

Fortunately, I asked SisIggy to research this phenomenon and get back to me. She Googled Ants on Peonies and was forwarded to this website which directed her to the Heartland Peony Society site where she found this forum that answered my question.

Thank God for the Internet.

Conquering Appleton, Wisconsin

Shenandoah University rallied with seven runs in the eighth inning Saturday night to defeat John Hopkins University 11-7 and earn the Hornets their first-ever trip to the NCAA Division III Baseball World Series, scheduled this week in Appleton, Wisconsin.

The eight-team, double-elimination tournament will be played at the Time Warner Cable Field at Fox Cities Stadium, home of the Class A Wisconsin Timber Rattlers.

SU (37-8), was ranked 17^th in the latest D3 poll and is an at-large team in the tournament.

The Hornets, who play in the USA South Conference, defeated seven other teams in the South Regional played this past week at Salisbury, MD Arthur Purdue Stadium.

I want to take this opportunity to congratulate coach Kevin Anderson and his squad of under- achievers. Anderson earned his 300^th-career victory with his team’s win Friday night.

Kevin has been a friend for many years and I wish him and his team success.

I also hope my friend, John from Wisconsin on the Bits and Pieces forum, is a hospitable host for our local team and helps root them towards the D3 title.

I’ll be listening to the games via online radio.

Spring Planting is Done

It's taken SisIg and me more than a week to plant our front flower beds and to build several new ones but our task is finally over and before we forget, we'd like to give a shameless plug to our local Vocational Agriculture Department / FFA Chapter at Strasburg High School for providing us with all our bedding plants.










Now we can see God's beauty all summer long and provide Heir II with a nice setting for his upcoming high school graduation party.

Ya'll Come (We're Not Goin)

Starting today and running through Sunday is our town's version of a Spring Celebration.

It's called Strasburg Mayfest and even it has no shame. Each event has a sponsor to provide the festival with a little up-front cash and the business, some cheap advertising.

Sponsored by the local Chamber of Commerce and the Town of Strasburg, the festivities actually began Wednesday night with the opening of the Lion's Club Carnival on the Town Lot. Last night saw a Luncheon and today's activities include a performance of the Grand Ole Opry (don't even want to know how permission was obtained from Nashville for a local musical) and the Stover Funeral Home Street Dance.

The fire department has a pancake breakfast tomorrow morning and after filling up on carbs, one can run in the 5-K race down by the river on the new $87,000 path.

Food concessionaires will be clogging most of downtown making vehicular traffic a nightmare. Sure hope we don't have another of our weekly tractor-trailer wrecks on the Interstate -- I don't know where the extra traffic will be detoured if that happens (well, I do but I don't want to think about it as our road is the only other alternative).

The Arthur, Allamong and Brown, PC Parade kicks off at 4 pm (and will end approximately 15 minutes later). The parade Grand Marshall this year is The Lone Ranger and Silver and the sports grand marshall is olympic gold medalish Mary Wayte Bradburne.

More activities are planned for downtown and at the local town park (Hometown Park) the remainder of the weekend.

I hope all my readers will partake of this exciting time in our neck of the woods. Come visit, spend your money and have a good time. We won't even be close to it, however.

Topper Get Down - Again

It's been a standing joke around here for some time that our male Beta Dog Topper (Red-Tri Australian Shepherd) likes to jump up on anything living or dead to show how much he loves us.

SisIg coined the phrase and our friends, Trasherati and Jagosaurus, mentions it often.

So I wasn't really surprised this morning when he jumped up on our patio table to drink out of a water bowl I had left there when I mowed yesterday. We had rain last night and the bowl was full just for him.

It's obvious he's a connoisseur of natural water and prefers that over well water. But since he's not paying the bill, he'll have to make due with what's provided (even if it's not as we intended).

I guess he won't be using the commode for his drinking pleasures.

Before and After

I always believe it's important to take before and after photographs if for no other reason, for posterity.

SisIg and I spent two days this week trimming... er pruning... er stripping the forsythia bush that's straddles the property line between us and our neighbor / landlord. He had told me way back in March it needed to be done and fortunately, his chain saw broke before he could do it.

We researched it and found it's best to trim after blooming and when the yellow flowers began disappearing last week (during the monsoon), said neighbor / landlord said he was itching to get his chainsaw out and do it himself if we didn't do it first.

Personally, I liked the bush as it was but truthfully, it did need a haircut -- but not a buzz cut. It hadn't been properly taken care of for at least five years and maybe even longer.

Here is what it looked like before we made a stab at it.

And here is the finished product:


















I must add I couldn't have done it without Sis' help. She handled the pruners while I used my reciprocating saw to cut the larger root stock. I also bundled the multitude of branches and hauled them away to neighbors' / landlords' brush pile.

We were sore Wednesday after finishing the task and even more sore this morning when we tried to get out of bed...

Just Because it looks like a BM doesn't mean it tastes like one

Editor's Note: Having gone to bed Monday night without posting the blog seen below, I couldn't sleep because I knew Dark Garden wanted to see what I had to say.

Got up at 4 am to write this. Now I'm going back to bed.

Additional Editor's Note: Sisiggy had a great suggestion regarding this post in a comment below. I've decided - it the interest of the viewing public - to add it here a top my blurb: "If you are eating something, either come back later or stop immediately."

I’m sure everyone has gotten an email at one time or another that you thought said one thing but the sender thought otherwise.

It happened to me last Friday evening when an email popped into my inbox from Dark Garden announcing a belated Cinco de Mayo celebration at his abode on Sunday.

Here is an exact copy of the message:

B Y O D
Si. You read it right! B Y O D
Bring Your Own Dip
Here’s the theme sports fans!
Everyone bring your own dip of choice.
Now relax (ART!), you can be silly with it or serious… HOWEVER, it must be palatable!
(Otherwise everyone will be bringing things like “Billy Zane’s Corn Bowel Movement Fiesta Dip.”)
Hmm… well actually… I guess you really could bring a dip called “Billy Zane’s Corn Bowel Movement Fiesta Dip,” but
you can’t go putting real bowel movement in it. Well … .actually… I guess you could, however, everyone will have to have a nice heapin’-honkin’ scoop of their own product before anyone else will be subject to the taste off.
Anyway, you can go ahead and just purchase a ready-to-go jar of Tostitos or Lays or whatever.
Oh… the dip…. It can only accommodate a Tostito type chip. No bread dips or cracker dips.
Remember, we’re celebrating Cinco De Mayo here!
We’ll see you SUNDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Recap:
1. Bring your own chip dip.
2. Must go on a Tostito type chip, come call them a Tortilla, I call them a Tostito type.
3. No poo.
PEACE!!!!!!!

Maybe it’s my ADD or just that I like all things sewage. Whatever the reason, my eyes (Ok, my eye) latched onto this particular statement:

(Otherwise everyone will be bringing things like “Billy Zane’s Corn Bowel Movement Fiesta Dip.”)

And, I missed recap #3.

Yes, I thought our dips would be judged on the one that most resembled a bowel movement.

At Martins on Saturday I found a jar of Newman’s Own Black Bean and Corn Salsa. In the jar it looked like my loose bowels -- a day after eating spicy foods and whole corn.

You know what I’m talking about.

Coupled with a can of re-fried beans and PRESTO – Instant Shit.

At least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Oh, BTW. We did have a competition and six brave souls produced their own version of BMs. The winner - in a squeaker - was Dark's fresh salsa with John Boy's Death Potion right up there.

I finished near the bottom but that's where Paul Newman's SH*T belongs. If I could have found some from Billy Zane, who knows, maybe I would have won the competition!

Where Have I Been?

I've received emails and comments from some of my readership wanting to know why I dropped off the face of the earth and haven't blogged since Wednesday a week ago.

There have actually been several reasons.

The Apple Blossom Festival continued in Winchester unabated but I couldn't get anyone in the family to go with me and the festival isn't fun unless you know someone. The local newspapers have started copyrighting their photos so I couldn't borrow any...

Our landlord finally got a backhoe operator here to dig the trench for the new water line. He came mid-morning last Friday and dug the ditch but feigned an important social function he couldn't miss and darted out of here at exactly 5 pm.

He couldn't make it Saturday (something about Apple Blossoms) and then the window of finishing the job quickly abated.

We got 2 1/2-inches of rain Saturday night and another three inches by Monday morning. Over the next three days we got an additional three inches and the ditch was now a moat. It didn't help the operator (his god-given name is Pee-Wee) cut the sump pump line and that water was flowing into the ditch too.

The landlord got the repair kit and I climbed down in the cold abyss and fixed the pipe and perhaps a flooded basement or two.

Friday afternoon, Pee-Wee returned with a pump in hand and finally got the ditch closed in.

Yesterday, the landlord got the water line connected and we are now on his 80-gpm well. No more cisterns. Yea. Oh, did I mention we had to fill the cistern Friday morning or we would have run out by that evening. Ouch. $60 to the water-hauling man.

Cha-ching.

But the really big reason I haven't blogged is that I have been trying to change what I do every day so I don't continue my rut of sitting at the 'puter and dipping SKOAL.

I had been contemplating this a long time. Sis Iggy has been quietly complaining (for an ex smoker, she's been rather nice about it). The Heirs, especially II, has been down right pissy. I made a deal with II in March that I would quit the 30-plus year habit by May 1. I had weaned the habit from a tin every day or two to one every three to four days. I purchased my last cans of the nasty tobacco on Monday, April 27 at approximately 9:45 am.

Whereupon Heir I stole said cans saying I should quit earlier. Said conversation said while he was smoking, btw.

Got cans back. Started Dipping. Finished last can about 10 pm April 30. Rinsed mouth out around midnight and haven't touched any form of tobacco now for 10 days. I know I was a bitch for the first three or four day and for that, I apologize. I hope, since then, I have mellowed.

When I first started the habit back in college, a can cost $0.17. The last cans were $3 each since I bought 2. I have paid as much as $4.57 for a can and that was before the 04/01/09 fed tax increase.

So not only will I maybe gain a few more years of living, I will save a few bucks too. And since the latter is still slim in this stinking economy...