It’s been exactly one disturbing month since the Monument Fire began. Monsoon has started and instead of being the joyful respite we all wait for, new horrors have just begun for the people in Hereford Valley as their homes fill with ash and sludge. Everybody’s busy sandbagging their properties and buying flood insurance, which is really expensive.
I’ve received mail from very uninformed people calling me all kinds of nasty names simply because I tell the truth regarding the origin of the Monument fire. I HATE political correctness but I find that many Americans accept it like sheep. I usually trash those comments, but from now on I’m printing them, and trust me, I will make a fool of you. Insult me at your own risk. Go write your idiot opinions on your own blog, or better yet, come on down here.
But, life goes on. I’ve been highly motivated to clean up my property. I bought this house “as is.” The man who lived here worked in the mines but was completely self-sufficient when it came to taking care of his house and family. Maybe today he would be considered a hoarder. The barn and house were jammed full of every kind of scrap imaginable. We cleared much of it a few years ago, but a lot of it remained exactly where he left it when he died. He saved everything. Literally tons of metal, tires, wood, old refrigerators, half-empty bottles and cans of gooey unknown substances, thousands of parts from obsolete machinery, fencing and rotting hoses for his vegetable gardens. I’ve made countless dump trips and given stuff away. Since I’m scared to death of fires now and have illegals (yes, illegals, not immigrants) passing through my backyard on a daily basis, I’ve cleared all the brush. The monsoon will bring new grasses and create new brush, but from now on I’m going to keep up with it. It’s a lot of work but I trust no one. And if the opportunity presents itself to blow this town, I want to be ready.
Something good happened—Gracie, the little tabby I rescued from a foreclosed home, was adopted. I still have the two chihuahua mixes and can’t wait to find a good home for them. I have nine dogs in my little house and it’s too much. People call and make appointments to see them and don’t show up. Other people call and want them for free. Others call with their phone set to “Private” and don’t leave their number. Little kids call. The stupidity, rudeness, and bloody waste of my time is so discouraging.
Two confused chihuahuas after returning from the vet to get neutered. Coco and Chico, whose owner died and whose wife dumped the dogs the same day, need good home in southern Arizona. Will deliver.
"WTF? I thought you said we were going to get TUTORED!"
First brood of swallow babies on my front porch light. The parents come back every year and have two broods. I do what I can to keep them safe.
One died in the nest, I don't know why. The parents couldn't get it out, so we got a ladder and a pair of tongs and removed it.
If one more person tells me the prickly pears lost in the February freeze will come back, I'm gonna smack 'em.
Damn it's good to have the Border Patrol back on my street. They were all at the Monument fire for two weeks, now they're back in business. Look at this agent on horseback....HOT. I would have liked to move around him and take better pictures, but they're kind of busy.
Border Patrol bringing in group of illegals less than 100 ft. from my back door. The concept of the BP being ruthless dicks couldn't be further from the truth. They save lives every single day. I have never seen groups of illegals handcuffed or abused in any way unless they threaten the BP. They are given fluids, taken to hospitals, then returned to Mexico. It's expensive and we pay for it. PS—all this brush is now gone!
Poor old guy at the gas station, empty tank and no money. He asked me for a dollar. I gave him my last five bucks.
Our friend Hogan (see Hoarder of History) finally retires his boots.
