Adaptive Curmudgeon

[I had a fine overnight camp but objectively it wasn’t much. If you’re looking for a ripping story about how I base jumped into a Bolivian canyon, feel free to skip this post.]

Life ebbs and flows. I deliberately analyze the number and nature of my camping trips. They mark levels of the self I couldn’t otherwise fully perceive. This is a metric for me and by me; your personal yard stick(s) will be your own.

I see more variation than I once expected. I theorize it’s true of most but usually unnoticed. How many of us carefully monitor our own situation?

I’ve had decades when I had lots of hunting fun, weeks long canoe treks, and various other adventures. Conversely, I’ve had years when I barely manage a night in a tent. Two sides of the same coin.

Strive but within reason. If the odds aren’t in your favor, dial back to what can be done. If I can’t haul a backpack over a mountain, I camp in a tent beside my truck. Even this has gradations. Start with a car at a reserved site in a summery public campground and maybe it’ll scale up to a dispersed secluded spot on some crazy 4×4 track during a blizzard.

When my chips are really down… I’ll camp on my lawn. It’s better than nothing.

A few years ago I was on top of the world. My little dirtbike and I rode solo across Wyoming (WYBDR). It was a heck of a good time! I didn’t have enough time to do the whole trail, so I didn’t. Even so, I enjoyed myself.

Nothing is permanent except change. Not long after that glorious ride I found myself ill and frantically bitching at an unconcerned, bovine-like, medical bureaucracy. Something was wrong. I waved a baseball hat I’d bought in the Bighorn Mountains like a talisman. “I was tenting with a dirtbike in the mountains. Now I’m struggling to cross a parking lot. Something is amiss!” It meant nothing to them. It never does.

Because of, or despite, medical ministrations I’m recovering. I’ll be fine. The biggest treatment was self directed; suddenly and jarringly I retired. That was a big fat hairy deal but it worked. If you’ve gotta’ dive out the window of a speeding car to stay healthy, then do it. Roll when you hit the ground and be happy; you had a diem to carpe. Some people die at their desk. Your careful plans won’t mean shit if you’re tits up.

I suck at being retired but I’m learning. I sense the options. All my life I’ve seen geezers camping in the middle of the week. I’ve always schlepped my ass back to work by Sunday evening. I want to be like the cool geezers, comfortably retired, beer in hand, chilling out mid-week.

Also, I was held back by fear. I now use a CPAP. I don’t resent Darth Vader’s mask. If it works, it works. But I was afraid of breaking it while outdoors. I needed to get over that bullshit!

Two weeks ago was the first hint of summer weather. I didn’t go camping. I started hiking. I’ve become obsessed with trekking poles (which I don’t own). Are they goofy affectations? Are they limited to spandex clad, terrain crossing, athletes? Will they assist my fat ass?

Eventually, it was Tuesday, it was “retired guy” go-time. I was going to camp in the middle of the week!

My intended smooth launch was a disaster. An unexpected appointment derailed my morning. Then a bunch of errands needed doing. I hadn’t gathered my (long neglected!) camping gear. The afternoon arrived and I was still faffing about. The lawn grows ferociously this time of year. I wished I could mow it and go camping. Mutually exclusive tasks vied for my time. My grandmother had a saying for times like these; “shit or get off the pot”.

Around 4 pm I ignored everything but the goal of camping. I haphazardly tossed gear in my truck. It was less “pack for camping” than “evacuate”.

Past me did me a solid! I’d carefully stored my “truck camping” gear right where I could find it. I also thanked past me for long ago acquiring everything I need. I’m broke right now but all the gear I needed was patiently waiting. I didn’t spend a penny!

Another miracle; past me had assembled an awesome chuckbox! I’d almost forgotten about it. I posted about it two years ago:

Most “chuckboxes” are filled with plates and pots and shit. Maybe a few spices or whatnot. I have all that but much more. I cram mine with all the normal stuff but also a stove, fuel, and enough food for a good long time. My idea was that (aside from water) I could grab the chuckbox and know for 100% sure I’d have enough for a few days. This is because I hate planning menus and shopping for grub. A “bug out chuckbox” suits me. I can say “fuck it” and blow town, knowing I’ll find something edible in there.

I hadn’t opened that box for two years! Was I going to really trust… myself?

Sure, why not?

It was hot so I grabbed a cooler. I had only two beers in the fridge. I grabbed a few bottles of water and a couple cokes. The cooler was 90% empty. I (wisely!) I swiped fresh coffee grounds from our kitchen on the way out the door.

Wondering what I’d forgotten, I stopped at a gas station and bought a package of cookies. If there was no food in there I’d have a dinner of cookies.

The chuckbox rocked!

At camp I opened it. It was like Christmas! Buried in the contents I found everything I could want. Coleman fuel in an MSR bottle, a campstove, my coffee percolator, etc… I found spoons and sugar for my coffee. I found some beef jerky that expired in 2024. I nibbled on that but it was funky so I didn’t eat it. There was enough freeze dried and canned food for days! (Which is just as I planned it.) I even found matches, a tiny headlamp, and batteries for the lamp.

All the shit I’d packed years ago was just what I needed!

The new thing is a power supply and the CPAP. I pondered paying extra for a campsite with AC but I’m too cheap. The battery system worked well.

It was as peaceful and mellow as I’d always imagined. I’ve been missing camping! The reflective quiet is irreplaceable. Later, I’ll post all the stuff I used because it did a great job on short notice. I couldn’t have been better served if you dumped an REI store on me. (Does REI still exist?)

There’s no point to all this rambling, except to say if you need to camp (or whatever), do it. Also if you’re doing OK now and have a hobby (like camping) bank some gear. Stash the shit you’ll need and have it ready in case things change. I’m glad I did.

Among the things that seem stupidly easy is using a tractor to prepare soil and seed a big game food plot. Farmers prep and plant huge fields. How hard can it be?

Answer: way harder than you think!

A tractor barely gets your foot in the door. You need implements. Without implements, a tractor is just an impressive, heavy, slow, uncomfortable transport for one person.

Unfortunately, implements are very expensive. It took me years to level up to a functional tractor (now paid off!). I have the horsepower, but I only have a few implements.

So, that very simple idea “I’ll till some soil and put in a big game food plot” can turn into a huge investment. Even if you were made of money, it takes a bit to get the hang of the skills involved.

That’s what I mean about things being harder in reality than in imagination.

Long ago, I messed around a few seasons with an antique 2 bottom plot and my antique 1944 tractor. The plow wasn’t the right tool for the job and the tractor died… it’s still dead (the tractor, not me). Fixing it for the umpteenth time (the tractor, not me) is on my “to do” list.

My “real” (modern) tractor runs well. I almost had a stroke taking out the loan to buy it, but now I’ve got it. Its true purpose is to plow snow. Everything else is gravy!

Several years ago I bought a Brush Hog brand disk. A disk is an array of big steel plates that spin across the ground. You can adjust them to be out of alignment with direction of travel or straight. This creates a more or less aggressive cut. Though this isn’t the same efficiency or precise calibration of a real farmer’s tractor in a real cultivated field.

It’s best to get the right size to go with your tractor. My disk implement is about 5′ wide. I lust for the 30′ behemoths real farmers own; but it would just bog my tractor down. A 30′ disk is also more expensive than I can afford. (Possibly costing more than the tractor I own!)

My tractor is a good machine but it sucks with downforce. Some implements use friction with the earth to pull themselves into the soil (like plows and cultivators). A disk doesn’t pull itself down, it tends to roll up and onto the soil’s surface. Some tractors shove crap down against the ground. My tractor doesn’t. It’s just how the machine was built.

Solution? Many passes.

I go back and forth like it’s Zen meditation. Another thing, my plots are small-ish and you can’t turn while pulling a static load. I broke a few (thankfully cheap) 3 point hitch components learning that lesson! It happened a few years ago. Luckily 3 point hitches have lots of parts that are replaceable and most are reasonably cheap. They take a lot of abuse in general so I’m not the first guy to break a few bits.

I just try to be relaxed and go with it; plowing small areas, pulling the disk up to turn, setting it back down, taking shallow cuts, moving slow; easy on the equipment and mellow for the driver. Progress is glacially slow. It is what it is.

I installed a radio a few years ago. That was a good move. I listen to tunes and forget I’m in a modern hurried world. (BTW: Tractors in my size class of mine are pretty good with fuel consumption. Fuel expense isn’t half bad. Time is the true cost.)

The first few years I “cultivate” an area, the sod (which has had like 30-50 years to put down roots) is a bitch. After a few years of my half assed “cultivation”, the disk works OK with the repeatedly loosened soil. I get some semblance of a seedbed.

Of course it’s all rutted, as if some chimp ran a disk through it and didn’t smooth it flat. Plus gophers fuck everything up. And lets face it, the soil is a dynamic system. If you’re imagining a flat plane it’s because you’ve never walked a freshly plowed field.

I need to smooth it out. There are implements for that. I don’t have them. I’ve experimented dragging heavy logs with a chain (shines up your chain!), or just dragging random shit across the dirt. It does work… sorta’.

Here’s a picture of what I was using. It’s sub-optimal but the steel square is junk (free!) and I already have the chain.

By the way, I’m not the first half assed, sub-farmer, homesteading chump to drag “garbage” through a field. I constantly unearth metal bits from whatever some dude in the past was using. I presume the metal bits were deposited there maybe decades after they were identifiable, high quality, new, farm implements. The stuff I kick up isn’t cool antiques; it’s just trash.

Here’s an example.

Dragging a steel square with minimal downforce is pretty close to the least effective approach. I decided to make a new(!) chain drag from my very own modern-ish trash! It wouldn’t be worse than the bullshit I was doing.

Here’s some old junk chain link fence. Why I’ve been keeping it I have no idea. Why not use it for this?

Careful dissection followed. (Note the awesome sawhorses!)

I needed more, so I scrounged an old steel bed frame.

I spent forever breaking it into components and grinding the thick paint off places I wanted to weld. But there was metal under there somewhere.

I was “winging it”. I wanted a drag not an integrated circuit board. Best to not overthink it.

I got out my small welding kit. (All I know is “stick welding”. It’s a long story but that’s a college class I took years after “college age”. It’s the only class I’ve ever dropped. Somewhere there’s an “Incomplete, this dude’s a loser” paired with a shitty GPA on a transcript at a community college that doesn’t matter. I smile at the thought.)

Back to the task at hand, I know a little but only a little and I’ve a smattering of gear but only some… plus I’ve got some junk metal. I struggled and made something lame. We all gotta’ start somewhere.

My welds were an abomination before God and the universe. They’re the best I could do, but I refuse to post such ugliness. Again, it’s a drag… so long as it doesn’t implode it’s doing what needs done.

I created a crude frame out of a chain link pipe and the bed frame. I scrounged some chain link “weave” and stretched it tight. My local hardware store didn’t have the fittings that you use to hold chain link to a pipe. I salvaged what I could and used plumbers tape on the rest. If nothing else, it’s tight enough that it doesn’t flop all over.

I had a few small clevis-es… um, what’s the plural to clevis? I pinned those to a couple holes in scrap steel I’d salvaged and welded to the corners. All I needed was some chain.

The chain I have is too large for the clevis… clevii? I could buy more chain at the hardware store but I used four strands of p-cord that was hanging around. It’s good enough for now.

I think, if I added a bunch of weight, the drag would be pretty functional. Maybe next spring I’ll bolt or weld something heavy to it. One step at a time.

I “dragged” the disked area a couple times (not too many, I was running out of time). Then I shut down the tractor and seeded by hand.

I used leftover seed from last year. I can’t remember what it was called; probably something like “Massive Rack Awesome Super Hunting Power Success”. They’re all named something like that. I use a blend of brassica, clover, and rye (I think). I mostly enthuse over the brassica. Who doesn’t like beets? The rest is boring.

Seeding by hand is (like everything else) a skill that one must develop. Last year I seeded too much. It seemed like the seeds were competing with each other. This time I seeded a whole lot less, hoping to reduce within species competition. How much less? I dunno’. It’s a hand crank thing and all I can say is I cranked slower. I hope I didn’t “under seed”. We’ll see.

The appropriate implement for this is called a “seed drill”. Seed drills are far more efficient and reduce your seed expense. They, deposit seeds at the depth and spacing you specify. I sure wish I owned one.

After that, I gingerly ran the drag over the seeded soil. The goal here is to embed the seeds precisely 1/8″ into the soil. Ideally you won’t pull all the seed you just spread into a pile at the end of the field. You never know how it’ll work out.

“Precision calibration” in not what you get with a hunk of chainlink. Did I get the seed covered 1/8″ deep? Maybe. Possibly. Some of it I suppose? Some was probably too deep. A portion was probably left on the surface. I assume the birds will appreciate my gift to them? In a few places the tractor tire itself probably did better packing than the drag.

One appropriate implement for this is called a “cultipacker”. Though if I had a seed drill I might not need a cultipacker at all? I’m not sure about that. I can’t afford either.

Anyway my DIY drag is better than the junk frame I’d been using. I claim a definite improvement! It’s only partial success and I could have done better. I give it a C-; which isn’t great given the labor I’d invested. Then again my budget was well under $20 so that’s good.

I had more area to cultivate. I was going to put down some clover seed. I ran out of time and had to go out of town. You do what you can in the time you’ve got.

A.C.

UPDATE: I did all that about a week ago. I checked today. Looks like the seeds germinated!

P.S. I’m a meat hunter. I define success as filling the freezer. Food plots make life easier. I’m not looking for a trophy.

I lost sleep over this!

I couldn’t imagine what insane shit was going on to turn duck into bacon. Transubstantiation?

I went back to the restaurant and checked. The menu was missing a comma. It wasn’t “duck bacon” it was “duck, bacon, and other stuff”. They left out the comma!

My dumb ass spent all night thinking about it.

Regardless, it was delicious.

I just ate “duck bacon”. It was delicious!

I’m not sure how I feel about duck bacon. Does my psychological health accept non-pig based bacon?

Technically it was duck bacon crab cheese wontons.

Delicious. And puzzling.

I’ve been posting many photos of the kitten. It’s a combination of cute as a button and furry clawed terror. The dog is an absolute saint in comparison and deserves more screen time. I’m rectifying that now.

Who’s a good dog? She is!

You know what sucks if you want to go for a walk? Cats! Cats suck at “forest”, unlike my awesome dog. Here we’re exploring an old field in New England.

The dog has inspected and approves of this old stone fence.

Though nothing can stretch like a cat.

My dog doesn’t approve of a cat on the dog’s post.

Back to dog photos. Has there ever been a dog prouder to be sitting next to an old tree?

Meanwhile, the cat likes to bite things, like me.

Though a kitten has +2 on all of its cuteness rolls.

I like that the dog happily hangs out with me as I “explore”.

The cat looks cute when napping, but it’s probably dreaming of chewing my nose off.

After an adjustment period, the two of them have learned to get along pretty well.

In conclusion, dogs are best!

We had a “new cat situation” so I needed to make a cat house for the kitten. Frenemy the Tomcat wonders why I didn’t make a cat house for him.

Could I make a house entirely out of scrap wood I’d salvaged from pallet stock? I expended a ridiculous amount of labor. I wound up with this starting pile of material. I wasn’t displeased.

However, Mrs. Curmudgeon likes buying cat stuff from Amazon. I narrowly intercepted her en route to buy a second flat pack cat house. It was a close call. My plans for a zero budget cat shelter went out the window. Also Mrs. Curmudgeon politely requested I not “nail together some garbage that will be sitting by our door for a decade”.

Good point. I gave up and bought real wood. Almost like a normal person.

Mrs. Curmudgeon viewed my desire to build a cat house (rather than buying one) as if I were carrying around a lance looking for a windmill. The pressure was on. It had to be nice.

I “scrounged” a half sheet of 3/4″ plywood and perfectly good foam insulation from my “stockpile”. I was looking forward to “testing” my new miter saw and this house was going to be built like a brick shithouse!

Instead of knocking together a two by four cube, I used the pocket screw jig I’d bought to build my miter saw table. This is far too nice for any cat. Heck, it’s too nice for me.

I made it taller, so a water & food bowl can sit underneath.

The internal walls are 3/4″ plywood (with a nice finish!). The insulation is 1 1/2″ thick foam.

If I’m going to build a cat house it’s going to have internal walls. I split the footprint into two sections. One section is insulated where the cat hangs out. The other is the cat’s front room, where it’ll keep its boots and greet guests. That side is insulated on the floor and external wall but not the wall where the two external “doors” will be.

I designed for a front and a rear door. So the skittish kitten (who is already no longer skittish) will always have an escape avenue. I found my other cats always hated retreating to a place with only one entrance/exit. They only go in there when it’s bitter cold outside.

However, if you put a “hallway” with a front and rear door then if a threat (likely in this case the annoying Frenemy alley cat) gets in that hallway the cat is still pinned. Solution? Two levels! A front door with access to the lower level and a rear door with access to the top level. Anything that gets in there will have to maneuver while the threatened kitten could scoot away easy peasy.

Here’s the upper and lower entrance to the cat’s main quarters. I put a plywood floor between the two levels.

Here’s a top down photo. See that the entrance side has two levels?

The internal wall was fun to make but a PITA to install.

Did I radius the upper corners of the entrances? You’re damn right I did!

Sadly, this caused sadness. My very very old Sears jigsaw is just about dead. I think it’s at least 50 years old! It lasted long enough to build an entire boat(!) but nothing lasts forever. I think it’s about to give up the ghost. If anyone wants to contribute a handheld jigsaw I’ll name it after you and explain to my cat that a virtual human on a thing called the internet helped build the cat house. 🙂

The internal wall is not merely plywood. I wanted to insulate but it was a tight fit for 1 1/2″ foam and then 3/4″ plywood. I compromised with 1 1/2″ solid wood (really just some scraps of 2″x6″); which has “doorways” that are radiused too.

Notice I painted it? Hell yeah; two coats, inside and out! If you’re going to waste labor building something, it ought to be painted. Two coats of paint took way longer than you’d expect but it did look nice.

The outer wall was 1″x6″ tongue and groove. Way too nice for a cat but I wanted to try it on my miter saw. I reasoned that I could make the corners flawless and thus skip putting on trim.

You don’t know what you don’t know. What I now know is “flawless corners” is a PITA. You need trim! In one instance I screwed up so bad I called it a night as soon as I saw how I’d nuked my material (don’t fret… there was a smaller area where I could use the board).

I’m glad I painted the inside before I blocked it off with the outer wall. (This is the lower level entrance. I think it’s fairly predator proof.)

The siding went on pretty fast. I have a cheap Harbor Freight  nailgun I’ve hardly used. I had to buy it for one project where it was unavoidable. I finally got to test that on a self directed project.

I had hoped to not need trim but it sure looks pretty. I trimmed with 1″ x 4″ scraps I ripped to narrow strips.

Even better when painted. (Notice the rear entrance is up high… it goes to the second level.)

Then came the roof. I was actually worried it was too insulated. It’s a zillion times more well built and insulated than our house! I decided to forgo overbuilding the roof.

I used the last bit of 3/4″ plywood and found some shingles left over from redoing a part of my roof like a million years ago. I even found sheet metal roofing screws which I’d saved for who knows how many years. It’s not the perfect use of a sheet metal screw on an asphalt shingle but I think it’s “up to code” for a cat shelter.

(I was low on paint so I didn’t paint the underside of the roof, which will probably haunt my dreams but no cat will ever care or notice.)

Now it’s setup near our door. The kitten, of course, doesn’t give a shit. He’s sitting on my chair. (In his mind it’s his chair.)

Those eyes… that’s the look of a cat that is fixin’ to commit mayhem any second now.

Yep, that’s it. He found a bag of treats and went full maniac.

Here he is attacking the dog. (Don’t fret, the dog is the size of a freight train, she can handle it.)

Happy Memorial Day y’all.

A.C.

I’m only human. Look at how damn cute that critter is. Of course it manipulates me. It gets what it wants.

I already have a cat. It’s an elder cat and it’s been ordered to stay the hell out of the house (not just me, but also Mrs. Curmudgeon says so). We live in a climate that’s like Greenland but with better hunting. Then what?

I cycled through several solutions over the years. I started by outfitting a “stall” in the chicken coop (complete with a cat door). That worked well until I eased out of the chicken hobby.

For years after the chickens (the damn cat will live forever!) I made makeshift structures from straw bales. I made a new one every winter. Straw is a great insulator and cats like them but I spent all winter fretting over heat lamps. I worried I’d burn the farm down. (The chicken coop had heat lamps too but that’s part of the “joy” of winter chicken coops and it’s maintained daily. The straw bales just felt like a wick about to blow.)

Another note, I maintain for the cat (and apparently all the cheeky elements of the nearby forest ranging from cute chickadees to infernal skunks) a heated water bowl. It never freezes. Water is key!

It was all very cheap and ad hoc and stupidly labor intensive… like me. What we needed was a cat house.* In January 2023 that’s exactly what we bought. We (and by “we” I mean Mrs. Curmudgeon who has a lot more sense than I) bought a GDLF Outdoor Cat House Feral Cat Enclosure 100% Insulated All-Round Foam Weatherproof Solid Wood Large Size for Multiple Felines 34.5″ L*21.5″ W*27.2″ H.

We paid about $150 for the object. I was appalled at the cost but I’m unreasonably cheap. It came as a flat pack from God knows where. It’s made of the cheapest materials known to man. On the other hand, it held up for 3 winters. The elder cat for which we bought it seems to like it.

Inexplicably, the same damn thing is now $100. Why is it $50 cheaper? I’ve no idea! Nothing is cheaper in 2026 than not-inflation adjusted 2023 except apparently cat shelters. Such are the mysteries of buying shit that was made in China.

Anyway… it works. The elder cat is our responsibility and the shelter took care of its needs. I’m not as gruff as I sound, I care about the damn cat. Many of the coldest nights of very cold winters I slog my ass out into the gloom and check on a heat lamp crammed in the wood box and the heated water bowl (which is a miracle). Mrs. Curmudgeon is not worried. She stays happily nestled under warm blankets by the fire. My worried mind is never correct. The shelter does its job well. I’d find our asshole, annoying, ungrateful, wretch of an elder cat curled up and snoozing though the worst of blizzards.

This year, I upgraded. I swapped the fire hazard heat lamp for a battery heating blanket. It works great. The lamp never worked great except when dangling from a chain in a chicken coop. It also tends to blow the bulb which is why I always ran more than one lamp for the birds. With only one lamp I fret it’ll go out on a -35f night and I’ll find a cat-sickle the next morning.

There is another cat. “Intruder cat” is not my responsibility. He’s a stray. I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. Sometimes he’d try to kick my cat out of its shelter. That’s not OK! I’d remind him that I own a boomstick.

Don’t get all “internet” on me; I didn’t shoot him… but I sure as hell chased his ass off the farm with implied violence. Over time, “Intruder cat” made peace with our cat and got renamed “Frenemy”. He wanders off for months at a time; which I like.

“once you have paid him the Danegeld. You never get rid of the Dane.“

Because I didn’t nut up and blow Frenemy to kingdom come, he repaid me with more hassles. He got lucky somewhere and dropped the resulting kitten into my life. It became my problem.

I tried to name the kitten “Half check” and keep him outdoors. It’s not a bad idea. However, the little beast has the ability to teleport. He’s now called “Schrodinger”. He lives inside the house. He bosses everyone around.

Before he moved inside (and only grudgingly consented to let me live in his house) I was building him a shelter. In my defense, it is a hell of a shelter.

Here are some photos:

Frenemy teaching his kitten Schrodinger life skills… like stealing food meant for our cat.

“See here boy, watch the horizon for threats while I feast on this loser’s food.”

A perfectly good cat house. Plenty of room for two cats. With indoor heat once it’s winter.

The kitten was a fast learner. I thought I had photos of him and our pre-existing elder cat sharing the shelter but I couldn’t find one. I was happy with this arrangement but the kitten soon learned to teleport.

This is the super awesome, incredibly insulated, luxury cat condo I built. It was done after Schrodinger learned to teleport. The elder cat stays in his accustomed (and heated!) house. My structure is like a bad real estate deal in China; looks awesome but so far has never hosted a tenant.

I’ve been fiddling with my files. More cute cat photos will ensue.

A.C.

*Am I the only one that has a different association with the word “cathouse“?

Last fall, God decided I was too calm and contented. I needed another cat to “stir the pot”.

Therefore, a kitten spontaneously generated in my woodpile. It’s almost certainly the offspring of an asshole Tomcat that hangs around sometimes. There’s no sign of a female cat, nor any other survivor kittens. The Tomcat ain’t answering questions.

I’m not sure if our kitten is the sole survivor of a disaster or he’s a lucky explorer who completely cast off mom and siblings. I presume he followed dad into a cold windstorm. I don’t know if this was an act desperation or a stupid thing a kitten did for no reason. His odds for survival were small; but once I heard him meowing from the woodpile he’d won the game of life. The world is his to conquer. Just ask him, he’ll tell you.

I was doomed. The critter took over our household! It was immediately “adopted” by Mrs. Curmudgeon and I followed suit. You can’t fight the power of cute! We fed the stray kitten and once you do that… you’ve got a cat.

I asserted the little cretin would be an “outside cat”. I posted about it in October:

• Well That Didn’t Go As Planned
• Pics Or It Didn’t Happen: Kitten Edition

Of course it didn’t stay an “outside cat”. Somehow, and I still don’t know how, the little bastard learned how to break into our house.

Our house is a drafty old run down farmhouse so there are lots of nooks and crannies. I’m shocked that a damn cat can ingress and egress but mice and such break in constantly (and some chipmunks, leading to the Chipmunk Battle of Spring 2026). I thought I’d patched any hole that would allow something as big as a kitten to pass. Apparently not.

I tried. I really tried. After tossing the critter back outside a few times and having it rematerialize in the house I gave up. I have no idea how the beast was doing his magic.

It’s less that it could get in through some hole and more like it could teleport. Besides, if God decided I needed a cute cat, who am I to complain?

Mrs. Curmudgeon and I spent the Christmas holiday with the little devil purring contentedly one lap or the other. It napped with me by the woodstove; heated by wood cut off my own land (at great physical effort). I couldn’t help but like him.

Sometimes it freaked out and tore through the house; attacking everything in sight. I even like that too. It terrorized our 100 pound guardian dog, who rightfully could have eaten it in one gulp; but now they’re friends.

My theory is the kitten was helping us avoid becoming complacent and immobile during the cold winter. Regardless, the kitten did (or has or continues to) make itself inevitable.

• The Christmas Cat Attack
• Video Representation Of The Cat Attack
• Obligatory Cute Kitten Photos

All that stuff is the background to a project I started in November, abandoned all winter, and finished last week. I set out to make a cat shelter (basically a doghouse for a cat). It was meant for the “outdoor kitten” lest he freeze his little balls off in the winter cold.

We have a similar shelter for our old retired barn cat. It is a very nice shelter. It has electric heat!

For a while the old cat and the kitten got along and shared the shelter. I took my time building a second shelter. It would be larger and more insulated and have a dual level “escape exit”. What feral kitten wouldn’t want an escape exit? (Partly I wanted to “learn” construction skills with tongue and groove wood.)

I was too slow. The kitten go tired of having a roommate. He elected to level up. He teleported inside our house! I don’t know how he did it but he did.

So I quit the project and let the cat nap by the fire. I got busy making sawhorse jigs. I’m easily distracted.

Anyway, I finally got the structure built. I have excuses for the delay. My shop is usable but unpleasant in winter. I’ve been through many weeks of travel and two colds. But mostly, the kitten was already in the house and snoozing by the woodstove, so why rush?

It’s an impressive, overbuilt, foolishly engineered cat shelter. It’s setup and ready to go. Our kitten could teleport outdoors and move in… but right now he’s asleep snuggled against our guardian dog. Knowing my luck that shelter will wind up occupied by something else. Disco wielding squirrels? A wolverine? Anything is possible.

I’ll post photos tomorrow.

Join me today as I skate on thin ice. I’m going to recommend a book that’s enjoyable fluff. I have an ulterior motive I’ll mention at the end.

I recommend Beware of Chicken: A Xianxia Cultivation Novel by Casualfarmer.

Is it an excellent work of literature? Nope. Is it deep? Nope!

Then why read it? Because it’s amusing, because it’s OK to read literature’s equivalent of “junk food”, and because it’s good natured. That last part is important. There’s enough doom scrolling & dark foreboding out there. We all benefit from things that have not a single word about America’s corrosive politics. Read about the damn chicken… you’ll be glad you did.

Also, craftily hidden in the humor and fluff is a honest and surprisingly meaningful concept. (More on that later.)

Get your posturing out of the way now. We all know you’re way too smart to read fluff. You plan to read good stuff. You’ve got a copy of Meditations but you haven’t gotten around to it. You tell people you liked Ulysses (but you’re not fooling anyone, nobody liked Ulysses… not that I know because I didn’t even pretend to read it). You might have enjoyed Atlas Shrugged and wish someone would chat with you about it, but every time you mention Ayn Rand people get skeeved out. Fine, you read deep stuff too.

Now put your ego away and read some crap… but pick the better of the genera. Please. Because I want to talk about it and nobody will understand why I’m blathering about a talking rooster. (Go ahead and make a joke about “cock”. You know you want to.)

First of all this is a “cultivator novel”. I didn’t know what “cultivator novel” meant when I started reading. It’s a genera that would have caused my high school teacher, who is part of the idea of Edna Campset (the Grammarian / the Inspector in my Squirrels draft) to toss my ass out of the room.

That’s ok. We’re all adults here and we’ve got nothing to prove. Most of us have watched stupid shit on Netflix so why not read something that’s stupid on the surface but mildly deeper as you ponder. Also, cancel Netflix, those guys suck.

You just have to accept the book is what it is. And then have fun.

I’ll muddle through a rough explanation. Cultivator novels “follow a pattern”. The protagonist starts weak and gets strong… often inhabiting new bodies over time or progressing spiritually. This is usually pasted over a Medieval / Fantasy setting with some monsters; Fae or Dragons or Demons or some shit. Swords are required. There are magic potions. You get where I’m going.

The levels can be ridiculously pedantic. I mean like they hit you over the head with levels of progression.

I think this is a generational thing. It’s definitely a “youth” thing. What do I know? I’m a geezer and it’s their genera. I think younger generations effortlessly default to thinking like a video game, or Dungeons and Dragons roleplaying, or Pokemon(?), or Magic the Gathering. This doesn’t break their willing suspension of disbelief that a guy has “leveled up” or has “hit points” or “mana” (I feel like like that’s a Magic the Gathering thing that’s everywhere now). Anyway “digital / game kids” rock through “cultivation” like nobody’s business but I, an older mind from the analog age, took a bit of coaxing to roll with it.

The “cultivation” backdrop is often a combination of Asian “mythology” with swords and sorcery. Sometimes with an AI or a video game framework… because why not? I didn’t say it was Shakespeare!

Of course the main character cultivators can be nerds. They gradually grind out enormous power. I presume the audience is nerds. Nothing wrong with that. Harry Potter was a bit of a dweeb at first too. He didn’t get to be an awesome wizard on day one… he had to get bullied by Malfoy a bit to make the story work.

Nothing is subtle. It doesn’t have to be. We live in a world where actual grownups watched two decades of Marvel Universe. (I’m so old I liked Zorro and the Lone Ranger when I was a kid… at least the horses were realistic.) We’ve all enjoyed stories where a dude in tights get his ass pummeled by a supervillain who’s got a flying robot or some shit. Then, when the chips are down, the superhero gets his awesome on. He beats that dang robot and he’s now an even awesomer leveled-up superhero. It’s in every movie that wasn’t ruined by a girlboss that started out perfect because of shut-up-for asking-about-it.

You watched Iron Man fight Thanos over a magic glove. You’re not too adult to roll with a cultivator novel.

It does get extra funky during fight scenes. I mock it like this:

“The evil wizard that just attacked is a level 4 beastmaster! He has six minion weasels that are sentient, poisonous, and weigh 200 kilos each. One just tore my warhorse in half! The wizard himself can blow a mountain down with his left nostril!

But I’ve got a chance! The wizard doesn’t know I’ve got a potion of ‘weaselploding’ and I haven’t skipped leg day in 286 years!

I sneak behind him and perform my special move ‘super, ultra, extremely graphic, disembowel’! It works! The wizard’s head flies off and the weasels flee in terror.

I have now leveled up to ‘galactic brass balls’ level. I will never die and I can see infrared! Girls will like me now.”

I said to roll with it… this ain’t Hamlet. Enjoy the ride. Be happy.

One more thing, buy several books. They’re super fast reads. It’s just for fun so I tend to crush a book in a night or two.

These are the books in that series that I’ve read so far:

• Beware of Chicken: A Xianxia Cultivation Novel
• Beware of Chicken 2: A Xianxia Cultivation Novel
• Beware of Chicken 3: A Xianxia Cultivation Novel
• Beware of Chicken 4: A Xianxia Cultivation Novel

Clever titles eh? There are several. I’ll read the rest sooner or later. I should also mention that there’s a whole bunch of back to the land homesteading in it too. (Which I love!)

Imagine Little House on the Prairie but occasionally they get attacked by monsters.

You might want to use your kindle. I know we’re all outliers and we want to stay as analog as one can be. But there’s no point being foolish about it. Unless you use a flip phone and a FAX you might as well accept E-books. They’re good on the eyes, cheap to buy, and don’t clutter the house. Also, one reads cultivator novels like you eat Pringles. Just rip it open and blast through volumes. You’ll pay for the kindle itself in one 5 book series. Or don’t, read any way you want and it’s still better than drooling in front of the TV.

Now that I’ve outed myself as a reader of fluff (sometimes), I’ve set the stage for the discussion I really want. A main character in the ensemble cast is a rooster of uncanny nobility… yes he’s a cock… go ahead and laugh.

I like that character. He makes me happy!

Fa Bi De (that’s the name of the rooster) is not merely a launch and go cardboard cutout. (Wonder about the name? The book is vaguely Chinese style as written by a dude in Canada. Also it has to do with the nickname Big-D.)

Fa Bi De gains sentience. I wonder sometimes how much sentience I see in people in the real world. Fa Bi De immediately endeavors to self improve. Way to go! He does all the shit we should do but (generally) don’t!

Unlike the realm of the book, our “real” world is a crushed, battered, simulacrum of a better, more spiritually based one. The rooster does not have our cynical, limiting, defeatism. He legitimately shows the process of self-realization.

Sure, it’s a silly novel and the talking spirit animal was meant to satirize the genera but it came out better that you’d expect. I find it rather inspiring. The author accidentally (?)  created the best example of “show don’t tell” I’ve seen in years. Fa Bi De acts, thinks, behaves, and endeavors… better than us. It feels good!

A rooster deliberately seeking wisdom is the secret sauce that Tony Stark and his ilk never found. Maybe it’s just too much to ask of a CGI movie?

It’s all about the chicken. That’s why I recommend the book.

It’s worth a read, especially for that character.

I had some stuff about which I wanted to blog. Thoughts of import I was eager to put to text. Alas, life had ideas of its own. Sometimes the best you can do is “ride it out”.

Here’s my update of “riding it out”.

Not long after I returned from my travels, I picked up a cold. I’ve been sniffling along with that for several days. Nothing serious but I find it hard to think when ill. No thinkin’ means no bloggin’. These things happen. Sometimes they have to happen.

Another thing that “had” to happen was a hardware upgrade. I acquired Starlink to overcome my rural ISP’s um… decline. The decline was as predictable as the sun rising in the east.

I had shitty DSL some years back. Then some fund somewhere dumped what I called “Obamabux” on my rural county. I didn’t ask for the boondoggle but I did benefit from it. Improved service was deeply appreciated if not a wise capitalist use of funds.

However, “investing” in the finest infrastructure isn’t “investment” if it’s just pissing tax dollars away. I think it was a grant or whatever. Eventually, the ribbon ceremonies are over and the big cash infusion is depleted. Monkeys are left in charge after the money flow has passed. The system reverts to the mean.

I’m not saying my county is as far down the rabbit hole as South Africa (Los Angeles?). We don’t strip the copper from buildings! But a place as sparse as mine doesn’t always have the best human resources. Nor do we have hordes of people demanding (or paying for) huge bandwidth. We’re on the spectrum of “ignorable”.

The fiber optic that was laid (probably with great subsidy) to my homestead is just as good as it ever was, but the local workforce to maintain it just can’t keep the plates spinning. It got worse and worse but only gradually. Inch by inch the enshittification continued. I hardly realized how terrible it had gotten. Finally, I pulled my head out of my ass and made the change.

It is better to adapt than complain, and it make sense for me to outsource my service to literally anywhere more populous and advanced than where I live. I went for two way satellite on the grounds that a call center in Bangalore and a low orbit satellite is better than Gladys at the local ISP who talked the boss into hiring her grandson Hunter… who is barely capable of installing Windows but impressed Gladys who still can’t operate her TiVo. I’ve had too many conversations with “Hunter” and wanted out.

Elon, you magnificent bastard, I hope you build more rockets with my monthly payment. Keep it up until NASA itself weeps in despair at their fallen status as “rounding error”!

I haven’t yet mounted the antenna to the roof. Right now it’s propped on a woodpile. It runs about 300% faster than my local ISP.

A second “had to happen” event is some brush-hog work. I have a place that’s weeds 7′ tall. It’s a mess! Given my cold, I wasn’t physically fit enough to do much, but I hitched my brush hog to the tractor and ran around in circles as best I could. There’s a nearly empty Kleenex box in my tractor! Ick!

I did more than nothing, which is good enough. It’s an ideal biological window for such things. Right now that species of weeds are “easy pickings”. I can (and probably will) get back in there in June but by then it’ll be a real battle. Getting the upper hand now is wise.

While I was grinding back and forth and squinting through bleary eyes, I had the radio on. It is the absolute peak of “spring fire season” and the radio wouldn’t shut the hell up about it.

There’s a period of time when the grass is all dead from winter and new healthy grass hasn’t “greened up”. It’s pain in the ass. If the dead grass dries just right and there’s an ignition in just the worst spot and if there’s a stiff breeze to drive it… all hell can break loose.

The trick is to hang tight until things green up. It’s only a brief window. Just cool your jets and wait it out!

Adding to the drama, there was a big windstorm last year. It knocked down a lot of trees. Much but not all of it is cleared up. A fast moving fire of dry light materials could touch off the far heavier and difficult to extinguish fuels of downed timber… and that would suck.

I say it would suck because I’m not an asshole and I don’t like unnecessary destruction. I wonder if the opposite is the case in other minds?

Part of why I was brush hogging a bunch of tall but very burnable weeds was to eliminate (reduce) a risk. I turned a hazard into a not-hazard. The area I “managed” wouldn’t burn if you napalmed it now. Yay me!

After brush hog work I did some disking. The radio kept bitching at me that I ought not be doing stupid fire stuff. Which is annoying because anyone stupid enough to set off fireworks and pour gas on shit and generally misbehave ain’t gonna’ listen to radio warnings. Hell, there are people that fuck up and start fires that burn their own house trailers down. If “all your shit is gone” ain’t enough warning what is?

As I worked the tractor and sneezed thought my cold, I realized I had it all wrong. If you listen to the radio just right… it’s more like the people who benefit from fire funding are stroking a giant hard on. They’re hoping for the “big one”. They want it to happen!

I don’t think they’re going to get their wish. Thank God!

The grass is already starting to look green. It’s not overly dry. Things aren’t too bad. I think the “once in a lifetime” combination of spring fires borne of light fuels touching off big hot fires in blowdowns… just might not happen. It’s too wet.

Shucks! There might not be an orgy of spending. How sad!

I wrote some of this a few days ago. Since then it’s gotten a lot warmer. Also the wind picked up. If some fucknut creates an ignition today… yowzah!

I still have the cold but I was loading shit in my truck for a dump run. Then the wind went ape!

My Starlink antenna blew off the woodpile. Whoops. I’d better mount that better.

I gave up on my outside activities. Set the Starlink right and went inside to ride out the storm. I’m typing this as it happens.

What a doozy! The gusts are crazy. But now it’s raining. Huzzah!

There goes the last dream of a budget builder of a fire. I didn’t rain much but it doesn’t take a lot to “green up” vegetation. I think everything is going to be OK.

I’m glad because it’s still windy.

Whoa! Now I’m on generator power.

No shit. It just happened.

Grid went down, generator fired up. Nice to pass a real world test.

I guess it was REAL WINDY… somewhere.

I’m going to post this asap. Also, take a moment to savor this post:

You’re reading the random thoughts of a dude typing on a cheap computer using a whole house generator during a power outage. The post was sent directly from a hole in the power grid to satellite because the local ISP can suck it.

Everything about the situation amuses me. Country boy can survive!

Have a good day y’all.