The Animal Lives Again

Two days ago SisIggy asked if I would look at our Dyson vacuum and see why it wasn't working anymore. She told me, I turned it off when I began smelling rubber burning. She also said the suction wasn't very good either.

I finally had time this morning to investigate the problem.

Our model -- appropriately called The Animal -- as it is designed to handle dog hair (which those in the know, know we have six of them), was sitting on the living room carpet. I took a quarter to open the screws on the face cover and found dog hair (what's new) tightly wound around the beater. Interwoven with the hair was purple yarn, remnants of Sis' many knitting projects. The yarn, apparently, was also interwoven around the rubber belt that connects the beater with the motor.
Two hours later, I had it apart, the beater cleaned and everything back in place. I called SisIg to let her know that it now worked and that I had finished vacuuming. She then told me, I saw the yarn and thought I had gotten all of it.

Most of it, I replied.

As for the lack of suction, I found a slightly bent back felt pen wedged in one of the purple attachments that allows one to remove objects that shouldn't be sucked off the floor. It now runs just like new.

This posting, which reflects good news around here is also for the benefit of IH, who refuses to pay what a Dyson costs in favor of a less-expensive vacuum that when it breaks you throw it away and buy another.

Our four-plus year old Animal is as good as new.

It Kinda Looks Like Me

I can't do it justice so I will just link it here.

The Battle of Toms Brook Re-Visited

In October, 1864 the Battle of Toms Brook raged on in the fields surrounding my house. That battle became significant once again yesterday when Independent Hill and her husband, who live across the road from me, decided it was time to replace their front porch.

Some say the house wasn't built until after The War Between the States (that's what we southerners call it) but since no one is around now who was there then... we'll let our little story continue.

IH told me last night all that was found under the wooden porch were a couple broken jars, a hook of some type and the partial remains of a cat. But the rumor now swirling the neighborhood is that the remains of an Union officer was found buried under the concrete steps. We further understand that's why the steps remain today.

Could George Custer have been killed here instead of Little Big Horn? No one will know for sure but IH could be re-writing history.

WGO: Newspaper Slag for What's Going On

It's been awhile since I have posted here and the reason is simple: After having been under-employed for much of 2009 I landed a job in late August and have been working non-stop since.

Tonight, as I type this, I look forward to my first day off since beginning work. I will be resting for much of the day but do have several cosmetic around-the-house type things planned. And I will also be covering three girls volleyball matches later in the day for my moonlighting job I got in early September.

Now I hate volleyball but like the cash that I'll get, so I will learn to like it just a little bit.

Bon Voyage

It was with sadness this evening that the box of tomatoes (left) decided to move a few miles down the road to live with a new family.

Wait. What am I saying. I was actually jumping with joy as I carried the 40-pound box to Carol's car.

I was even happy when she emailed me later tonight with the news they found their way into pint jars and had been pressured into a winter foodstuff.

Unfortunately, our county fair starts later this week for a nine-day run and Carol and her husband Dale have a booth, meaning no more of the red vermin will be heading south for almost a fortnight.

In the meantime, the aunts, uncles and cousins of these pesky fruit will be once again overflowing our kitchen, house and yard.

Oh, well. When SisIggy asks me to plant tomatoes next year, hopefully I will remember not to plant 40 plants. I am sure 10 will be enough.

Salsa Time

Trying to winnow down our over-producing tomato stock today, I decided to make homemade salsa. Fortunately, we had all the ingredients on hand and I bought the Mason Jars Saturday night.

I started with the tomatoes - some yellow, some red, some German and a few Heritage ones thrown in for good measure. About the only thing that didn't go into the mix were the grape tomatoes.

I began by dicing them into small rectangular pieces and then bringing it to a boil for five minutes.

Next I cleaned and food processed five onions, diced cilantro and jalapeno peppers from the garden and prepped the jars by washing, scalding and then holding in the oven at 200 degrees until needed.

After tossing some salt into the mix and stirrring all to beat hell, I began adding everything but the hot stuff into the jars -- first, three Mild jars and then six Medium (peppers) and finally, three HOT (peppers and the seeds).

All that was left was boiling the filled jars for 10 minutes each and applying the labels so I wouldn't give a Hot one to someone who only liked Mild...

Who Said the Dog Days Are Boring?

Whoever said the Dog Days of August are boring never experienced one in Dirtmanland.

In fact, it's been hectic here since returning for our annual clamming operation in late July. So much so I have been unable to post anything here.

The garden and grass-cutting chores took a bulk of my time as I picked a ton of tomatoes. Some of it went for a fresh salsa made for Heir I's birthday bash; we tried every recipe that involved the fruit and made some up too. We forced maters on whomever showed up at the door and even tried to sell or give them away from a make-shift stand in the front yard.

Heir I's party wasn't until August 8th and according to SisIg's Facebook page, it will continue for another two weeks. Oh, to be young again.

Being sick of cucumbers and having pickled more than I'd like to remember, the neighborhood celebrated when I picked the last and pulled the vines last week.

I also started applying for jobs as several interesting prospects began appearing in the local papers but none came to fruition. Heir I, meanwhile, landed a job in Winchester, Sis, one in Woodstock and Heir II finished his year-long job in Strasburg as he finished packing for his trip to Salem to begin his post-high school academics this week at Roanoke College.

Sis and I took him Saturday, bidding him farewell in the parking lot that evening and I cried the better part of the trip home.

Sunday dawned to a sunny sky and more maters and after picking 40 pounds (which Heir I's better half's mother claimed), I decided I would attempt to make salsa to keep my mind off Heir I.

I think I succeeded.