Tag Archives: Neely’s Canyon

The neurotic carpenter

Our carpenter bailed on our kitchen remodel at the mini-rancho at Neely’s Canyon about a third of the way through. Our contractor brought in another one and a plumber to install the new porcelain-on-cast-iron sink, which he did last night, so that’s working again. New carpenter comes today to complete rebuilding the cabinets.

The original carpenter told the contractor he was “bored” working a rebuild instead of an original. It could be a neurosis, according to the contractor, since the guy’s behind on two other rebuilds as well. But it may be it’s the kitchen’s curse on craftsmen. That’s because we already lost a previous carpenter, a little guy we called the leprechaun, who measured and promised and then bailed before even starting. Could be this second guy was infected, too.

Another scorpion

A small, red one about an inch long, in our bedroom at Neely’s Canyon. I smashed  and flushed it. Called Bugmaster for a re-treat. They’ll come on Monday.

That’s four I’ve seen since we moved into the Mini-Rancho: three red ones (one big, 5-incher) and one brown. The sting of the browns are said to hurt less but I don’t want either one. Will continue to shake out my shoes and other clothes in the morning. I worry most about our kitty getting hurt, and Bar who pads around the place barefoot while I wear shoes.

UPDATE:  I’ll let Bugmaster continue, since it kills the bugs scorpions eat, but for the little bastards themselves, I’ve ordered an insecticide praised by reviewers in Arizona, land of millions of them.

Squirrels in love

Ever seen squirrels make love? I did this morning, out the kitchen window to the slope of the canyon. They used their fore paws to hug each other and what looked like kissing. Rolling around on the ground and up a tree. Then one of them mounted the other from behind, briefly, before resuming the hugging and kissing. Love is everywhere!

Coyotes in the canyon

A neighbor reports hearing a pack of coyotes in the canyon not long ago. They usually feast on unleashed cats and dogs and have lately scared the canyon’s white-tailed deer up onto the rim where the condominiums are. Wondering whether they’re actually coyotes or a pack of wild dogs?

Ice

Ice on Ruby this morning, wipers frozen to the windshield, but Bar made it alright to work. Only a few icy patches in the highway before she got there.

Forecast snow didn’t materialize in our portion of Neely’s Canyon. Consumes about eighteen acres and all densely treed so hard to tell about elsewhere. Twenty-nine degrees at Camp Mabry at 8 a.m., probably cooler in the canyon.

No trick or treating for us

At least we haven’t planned on it. Haven’t bought any candy at all. Though I’m sure some young children live in the Neely’s Canyon condos, we don’t expect them to show up tonight.

Trick or treaters were diminishing each year at Rancho Roly Poly, from little ones in store-bought costumes in the early years to teenagers often with no costume, just a hand out.

We could discourage them by cutting off the porch light. Here we can’t control the front door light, which cuts on and off only in response to motion or the lack of it.

His excellancy returns

Sennacherib, that is, a rare reader and commenter, looking remarkably chipper for being several thousand years old. He had visited the old Rancho earlier and he wanted to see the new mini-rancho. Liked it, or seemed to, mini as it is.

As usual he told us a lot of tales of when Austin was young, not so long ago actually, about seventy years. Turned out his Austin father owned a masonry company and Barbara Ellen’s father was a mason. But they soon figured out that bit of synchronicity went nowhere as BE’s dad worked for other companies but not that one.

Alas, his highness was unable to answer the high dollar question: Who is/was the Neely of Neely’s Canyon? As in Neely’s Canyon Condominiums. Google has nothing. It’s still a mystery. Surely it was not some developer’s name as the condos were built thirty-nine years ago by Larry Peel. Might have been any landowning Neely of the late 1800s, his excellancy surmised, a time when just about every piece of terrain in this part of Texas acquired a name.