Category Archives: Rancho Roly Poly

Car shopping redux

This morning I plan to head south to a Honda dealership to check out their stock of used (pre-owned, as they say nowadays) Honda CRVs. I’ve finally gotten a grip and decided to get one of these mini, four cylinder SUVs to replace the Jeep Cherokee. Don’t like the new ones, however, for reasons other than price. They look like minivans. I’m hunting for a 2006 or earlier, the ones with the spare tire mounted on the rear door. All I’ve found so far is black ones. Nothing more ludicrous than a black vehicle in Texas, even with sun-reflecting tinted windows. Even dark blue and burgandy are pretty dreadful in the summer. A normal summer. But even they are better than the one I found at one dealer yesterday. It was silver, and looked good and the price was right. So I got in to try out the seating and almost gagged. Essence of dog. Large dog, by the smell. Tobacco smell is bad enough. But I find dog smell infinitely worse.

Saturated ground

Area creeks and streams aren’t the only things running fast and high these days. So’s the upper forty at the rancho, in the sense that the ground is thoroughly saturated. So when it rains hard for an hour or two like it did yesterday morning (bringing our rain total for the week to six inches) and is expected to do again today, it runs off quickly. In fact, it turns into a waterfall on the stone steps leading down to the house, gradually pooling on the patio, rising and threatening to come inside. What we need is a few days of sun for the ground to dry out. We may get it by Monday. But first we have to make it through the weekend.

The season of the seal

Texas climatologist John Nielsen-Gammon says the state is almost drought free for the first time in a decade. How wet is it? Well, nobody’s talking about the dog days of summer, anymore, now that Austin, alone, has set records for cool temperatures in all of July. More like, the season of the seal.

Mowing

It isn’t easy, mowing a wet St. Augustine lawn. Especially with an electric mower. I keep thinking I’m going to electrocute myself. Got through the lower forty without doing so. Now for the upper forty. Wet grass clips all over my shoes and the lower legs of my jeans. Had to take them off before coming inside. At least I don’t have Bosco to worry about. Have to get it done. Only light, intermittant showers today. Much more rain forecast the rest of the week and the grass was already high. I long for a truly hot Texas summer. And dry, dry, dry.

Option paralysis

Keep it simple, stupid was a concept I first encountered in Army basic training. Later it was reinforced in officer candidate school. Never has it seemed so necessary, or so elusive, than in shopping for a new/used car. I’ve discarded the Toyota Corolla as too small for me, being over six feet tall, to get out of easily. Which is a pity, because it had just the right amount of economy for my needs–basically ferrying Mr. Boy around and grocery shopping with an occasional trip out to Lake Travis and back. The Toyota Matrix appeals but the reviews I’ve read talk about its blind spots to the side and rear. Pre-2007 versions of the Nissan Sentra seem similarly discardable for the size problem, though the 2007 one is much roomier. Also pricier. But even though I know I don’t need one, SUVs still appeal. The Toyota Highlander, Honda CRV, even the Jeep Liberty, despite it’s legendary bouncy ride. I feel like a Death Eater has zapped me with Petrificus Totalus. All I can do is stare.

Car shopping

The insurance company has retired my old Jeep Cherokee Laredo, after I rearended a Chevy last week climbing winding RR (Ranch Road) 2222 in a blinding rainstorm. The latest storm in our crazy year of rain. I wasn’t hurt, or the people in the Chevy. But the insurors declared the Jeep a total loss, although it isn’t obviously so. It being fifteen years old, however, the repair estimate was a higher percentage of the market value than allowed. I think I’ll go for a Toyota or a Honda this time. But giving up the Jeep is hard. We brought Mr. B. home in it, a few days after he was born in 2000. He’s used to it, we’re used to it. It’s like losing a member of the family.

Wrapping skill

Wrapping.JPG

Mr. Boy’s first attempt at solo wrapping. A present (a G.I. Joe set) for a friend from basketball camp, whose birthday party is Saturday. Not bad, actually, for a 7-year-old. Not a ginormous amount of extra cellophane tape. Not too far off, in fact, from what I do at 63. Nevermind, girls. It’s a boy thing.