Milkweed Munchers

At first, I thought it was a big pollen bloom. The vining milkweed, which really is a weed in our garden, the volunteer swamp milkweed, and the common milkweed were all covered in a coarse, bright yellow dust. But as I cleared the fence line, I became curious about the nature of this incursion, and so I did a photo search. 

It wasn't until I got the results that I pinched open the picture to magnify the canary-hued grains. 

They were bugs! Oleander aphids, to be exact, an invasive species from the Mediterranean that targets milkweed. The article I found assured me they probably wouldn't harm the milkweed, or any Monarch eggs or larvae sharing the plant with them, but they do compete for the same food source, absorbing toxins from the plant to make themselves taste gross to predators. That's why they are so brightly colored; it's a warning. Also, there are no male oleander aphids; they are all female clones, and they are born pregnant, which explains the rapid rate of infestation. 

That is borderline cool and yucky. I disposed of many of them in the course of weeding the garden, but there are still plenty around. Maybe a swarm of ladybugs will arrive next and gobble them all up.

Stacked Against Us

Managing an appliance malfunction always seems to be a dilemma these days. Most machines are not designed to last much more than a decade, and scheduling a technician usually requires at least a week's lead time. Then the question becomes one of cost and time efficiency: how much will the repair be, and how long will it take to secure the part, versus how much and how long it would take to simply replace the appliance.

That's where we were on Saturday when the digital LED display on our washer stopped responding. After clearing and draining several tubes and reservoirs, scanning the error codes, consulting the manual and the internet, as well as implementing the old standby of unplugging and rebooting, all to no avail, we were faced with just such a dilemma. The issue seemed to be a circuit board assembly or interface, and the repair was estimated at hundreds of dollars once the part was identified and secured, which could take a couple of weeks.

The sensible choice seemed to be to replace the washer with its newest version, which I did, delighted that it could be delivered and installed by Tuesday. On the morning our new washer was to arrive, we cleared our entry hallway and landing so that the installers could do their work, then settled in to wait out the four-hour window.

When at last they arrived, they never even took the washer off the truck. We needed a new stacking kit-- the one that held our washer and dryer was not acceptable. Also, since the dryer was on top of the washer, we would need to schedule and pay for the dryer's removal and reinstallation, too. As the delivery truck drove away, I canceled the order and began to shop elsewhere. 

We decided it might be prudent to replace both the washer and dryer at the same time, given that the dryer could fail at any time and the compatibility issues involved. And I was delighted to find a pair that could be delivered and installed today. When I purchased the stacking duo, I did not select the storage pedestal option because our space would not accommodate the extra height. Unfortunately, that was where I needed to check the box for the stacking kit, and when the delivery man called me this afternoon, he asked where they were to be installed because "We don't have the stacking kit on the truck."

Damn! It happened again. And so we are on to Saturday, when they will be delivered and installed at the earliest possible time. Oh, and I'm going to the big box store tomorrow, where I will pick that effing stacking kit up myself.

Seasonal and Cassoulet Adjacent

Craving protein and an empty freezer, I concocted a summer cassoulet for supper. White beans, one pork chop, a couple of chicken thighs, some authentic Buffalo white hots (white hot dogs, not spicy at all but a little like the bratwurst from the Zurich train station), and an assortment of summer veggies all came together for a light but hearty stew. Served with some toasted homemade sourdough and a tossed salad, it was actually a perfect summer meal.

And that Mustache

"I don't think I would have recognized him!" my 89-year-old aunt said today as I showed her my nephew's wedding pictures. She paused and examined the picture more carefully. "He does look like Bill, though, especially in the mouth."

"That is Bill!" I laughed.

"Oh my gosh," she laughed, too. "But look at his hair! No gray! And that mustache! He looks great!"

"I'll tell him you said so," I replied.

Did you hear that, Bill?

Well Prompted

I let the algorithm choose my workout music this afternoon, and for the most part, the so-called "personalized set of upbeat music" was pretty good. I did have to skip a few clunkers early on, but soon I was moving to some nice pop tracks from the 70s and 80s, a few that I love but haven't listened to in a while. And I laughed out loud when, as I was doing a cooldown on the rowing machine, Neil Diamond serenaded me with his lesser-known song, "The Boat that I Row." Who says AI doesn't have a sense of humor?

So Long, Mr. French

It's rarely good news when the phone rings unexpectedly right at 8 AM on a Sunday morning, and today was no different. "It's French," I said to a half-asleep Heidi when her screen lit up and the Looney Toons ringtone blared out.

But it wasn't French, Heidi's friend and mentor of over 30 years. It was his wife, calling ot say that there had been an accident and he had died on Friday. He'd been trimming trees from the balcony of his home and had somehow tumbled over the railing, causing severe spinal injury. He was the only one at home, and when the neighbors found him some time later and called 911, they could not stabilize him, and he died. He was just a couple of weeks short of his 73rd birthday, which seems too young to us now.

"Oh my God," was all Heidi said for most of the call, and then, "I'm so sorry." 

Later, I felt sure I knew the exact moment when he died. I came home Friday afternoon and heard the Avett Brothers' No Hard Feelings playing upstairs. Heidi rarely listens to the song, but that day, she played it twice. I came in toward the end of the second time, and when I heard the words When my body won't hold me anymore, and it finally lets me free, where will I go? I got a chill.

The next lyrics have always comforted me, though. 

Will the trade winds take me south through Georgia grain?
Or tropical rain? Or snow from the heavens?
Will I join with the ocean blue?
Or run into a savior true? And shake hands laughing,
And walk through the night, straight to the light,
Holding the love I've known in my life,
And no hard feelings.

Safe travels, French. 

Epic Epic

We saw The Odyssey this morning. It was a lot. A lot of noise, fighting, monsters and remonstrating, storms, beards, killing, and more. But my recent preoccupation with geography and history, a la travle.earth and other online games kept me wondering distractedly, Where in the world is Odysseus?