Thanks to OKat for sharing that Nightline report. Since I am pretty doggedly avoiding the news (never mind that I’m in hibernation mode and rarely stay awake late enough to watch anything I don’t record), I’d have never seen it. And thanks of course to Mike and Carlos for going over there and bringing these stories back for us to see. I still think you’re both f*cking nuts, though. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be known as a “Gaylord” either, but I think I’d prefer teaching there to running around at 9,000 feet getting shot at.

To tell you the truth, after about two minutes of running up the side of that damn mountain, I’d probably hope somebody would just go ahead and shoot me before my heart exploded. I’m not quite as – how shall I put it? – mature as Mike, but he puts me to shame (not that I set a particularly high bar when it comes to physical fitness). Of course, if Mike wasn’t the kind of nut willing to go to places like El Salvador, Beirut, Iraq, and Afghanistan, then nobody would want to take a class from him. Still, I think he ought to come back here and teach at Newhouse. He’d be a fine addition, and we could use a liberal lawyer who knows her way around a tractor up here. As long as y’all don’t mind a little snow.

So, anybody got a remedy for a dog who’s gone insane? My older fella used to love his squeaky toys, but somewhere along the line has become afraid of stuff that squeaks. Our new pellet insert has an agitator that turns and, since it just kinda sits there, metal on metal, it squeaks when it turns more often than not. I finally tried some Never Seez on it last night (even ordered some copper-based stuff that’s supposed to be good for up to 1,800 degrees) – which works pretty good, though how long it’ll last, I dunno – but he’s now gotten so freaked out, he’s terrified at any high pitched noise (which there seem to be an awful lot of, when you start to pay attention, especially on the teevee – doors squeak, tea kettles whine, birds chirp). I not only feel bad for him, but it’s gotten pretty annoying. He gets all worked up and shakes like a leaf, to the point where I have to go lock him in another room with the radio on to calm him down. I can’t holler at him, ‘cuz yelling at a dog who’s already terrified is pretty unproductive.

So, anyway, I need drugs. And then I need something for the dog. I’d love to try something homeopathic and natural and organic and all that. But that shit never works. I just want some doggy happy pills. Or some pot to put in his food. Something I don’t need to go to a vet for would be good.

So, my original plan for today (before the week-o-snow) was to redo my laundry drain. But the death of my van has changed things, so I reckon I’ll see if I can’t get that to start today (with the help of my friend John). First step, try and get it into the garage. And then hopefully get it back out again; I need to play musical garage bays. Who’d have thought a 3-car garage would be too small? Especially with four tons of wood pellets coming in nine days.

Oh well, I guess I better go and drink up all the coffee before granny gets up.