Life Goes On...

 The Covid lockdown officially started yesterday here in the US.

So we've stocked up on people and animal supplies, now just to go into near-100% hermit mode. I've traded in my perfume for the oh-so-alluring scent of Lysol and Comet. Sanitized is the new sexy!

This coming Saturday I'll set eggs in the ReptiPro incubator for a planned hatch date of April 11th--because if ever the world needed Chickam, it's this year, dammit. We'll be hatching all eggs from our own flock, although I'm hoping to get a few buff Brahma eggs from a neighbor...fingers crossed!

Although given what our girls are offering us these days...

Strange days, indeed.
Rafe, my youngster Russian Orloff rooster, found the tiny egg out in the chicken yard, he called the kid over and drew her attention to it by clucking at it in a most concerned way. I'm just glad Rafe is finally getting his rooster thing goin', he was a slow starter.

We were going to run the camera on the adult flock last weekend--I had a cabbage on a string all ready to go--but the weather ruined things. We'll try again this coming weekend, because...yeah, the world needs some chicken-y distraction these days.

Meanwhile, we had about two weeks of lovely warmish spring weather, which fooled my plum tree into blooming--something it hasn't done during the last three years. Then this weekend we had a sudden, three-day snow/wind storm.

Yup. Snow on the blossoms. The ones the wind didn't just rip off the tree, that is.

Yeah...I didn't actually tear my hair out,but there was much grumbling as I stared out the window at the storm lashing my tree around.

We'll see if it fruits this year. This particular variety is a self-pollinator, and I had gone out with my dry paintbrush to play pollinator the day before the storm hit; since I have yet to see a bee or wasp so far.

The water drops do look pretty, though, I'll give it that.

Lastly, the Northern Lights afghan I was making is basically done!

Okay, so I got a little carried away on expanding the size of it, it's roughly 71 x 52. I also used a basic ripple pattern rather than the one that came with the kit, and plan on edging the long side edges with a single row of a simple shell pattern, just to give the edges a finished look.

Since I made it bigger, I ran short of yarn and had to order more, but I wanted an afghan that was both wide enough and long enough, dang it! Nothing's worse than trying to grab a couch nap and having to fuss with positioning an afghan so your toes don't stick out.

Anyway, that sucker's warm.

A Good Time Thirty-Six Years In The Making!

So the old GE dishwasher that was here when we moved in seven years ago, has lately decided to allow icky water to sneak back into the machine. Icky water that would then build its very own, very special, stink. The fact that it wasn't doing it all the time, and would take a couple of days before your nose alerted you that something down there was VERY wrong, was just a muttered-swear-word-inducing bonus.

Okay, so off I go to the Internet, where surprisingly enough, I find a straightforward, well-made tutorial on how to repair a non-draining dishwasher, starring my exact machine! While this is handy, it also inspires dread--is my machine somehow famous for breakdowns...?

The video tells me that the part that allows the machine to drain is a 'flapper valve', located at the bottom of the sump--now, anything called a 'sump' cannot be a good thing in this scenario, and I am NOT looking forward to visiting it, much less sticking my finger down there to make sure it is working properly, as the video instructs. Doesn't matter tho, because I've gotta take that sucker apart and find out what's wrong.

No guts, no glory. I'm goin' in. Armed with several dishwasher-threatening tools, I remove the racks and arms--this part I've done before two years ago, taking the machine part-way apart to clean it. That's when I found all kinds of dog hair and broken glass lodged in the apray arms, which afterwards worked adequately...as could be expected in a 30+ year-old machine, I believed. I know, I know--what I really need to do is replace the machine, as it is old and inefficient. But since my washing machine, lawnmower and BOTH cars have recently ALL decided to die at the same time, it's just not in the budget right now.

I manage to get the upper spray arms out without breaking anything, and now it's time to delve into the guts of Dante's Dishwasher Inferno. The lower spray arm is first. This is what the bottom of my dishwasher is supposed to look like. In mine that big lower screen is metal, but otherwise identical--minus the gunk.

The lower spray arm...mind you, I've done the baking soda and vinegar thing several times since moving in, so everything you see from here on out is the cleanest I could get it until today. FAIR WARNING: this gets unutterably nasty, really fast.

There was this weird gray...fuzz on everything. Almost as if someone had stuffed a roll of paper towels in the dishwasher back in the misty dawn of time and hit 'Start'. For clarity's sake, let me just say that I am one of those people who washes their dishes BEFORE loading the dishwasher, I know this machine has no garbage disposal capability. I use the machine primarily to de-grease, sterilise and dry; and never load food-covered dishes in there.

Weird gray fuzz has attained...chunkiness. Removing it requires some old dental instruments I have and more muttered swears.

We've reached the first filter and the hub nut cover. Inexplicably, this filter is all one unit and cannot be taken apart to remove the gray chunkiness within.

Hub nut cover, top and bottom. As seems to be required, covered with weird gray fuzz, which is getting thicker...

By now I am POSITIVE that the previous homeowners never once took this machine apart to clean it properly.
Time to remove the first filter! First look at the hub, and isn't IT pretty! Gray chunky has given way to a layer of gray...skin. Charming.

The underside of the non-cleanable filter is everything I expected it to be.

The gunk...the gunk is SO VERY THICK. The gunk has thickness. Actual heft and weight. The toothbrush I armed myself with to clean the dishwasher with, is inadequate. I need a bigger scrub brush.

The hub nut. I'm not sure what level of Dante's Dishwasher Inferno we are at here, but let me just say whimper...
I DON'T WANNA DO THIS ANY MORE.

 I keep rewatching the how-to video, hoping I'm nearing the end. No such luck.

The gray gunk as achieved sliminess now, as well...and the smell...OH GOD, THE SMELL.

The hub nut is removed...

The underside...

Wait...what IS that in the center...?!

Dunno, but it's metal. Appears to be some kind of worn-through washer of some sort. Is it important? WHO KNOWS, WHEE!

But now I can see into the depths of the next Ring of Hell. That rectangular sump cover is next. Oh God now I have to remove something called a 'sump cover'. THAT MEANS THAT WHAT LIES BENEATH CAN ONLY BE A SUMP. *more pathetic whimpering*

As a little aside: just a little shout-out and a kick in the nuts to the person who designed this thing. When you are short, reaching the back of things is a real challenge...
This means that when you have to remove a screw from the BACK of the machine you must fully commit and stick the entire upper half of your body into an ancient, grody dishwasher. I experience similar joy when cleaning my oven.

Sump cover off...
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME.

Even though I thought I was ready to see what was under it...I was wrong. Also, my hands aren't strong enough to get the nasty sump basket out, even with muttering 'Fuck it!' and attacking the thing with heavy tools and fed-up determination. Husband is at work, daughter is asleep. Whoever sticks their nose in the kitchen next loses, and gets to horse that thing out.

I think there may well be something alive lurking down there, like the garbage-masher monster in the original Star Wars movie.

Husband lost, he appeared first. Probably a good thing, since it took all his strength to get that sump basket out...and that man could crack coconuts with his hands.

Just for the sake of reference, this is what the sump basket is supposed to look like. See all the little drain holes?

NOW YOU SEE THEM, NOW YOU DON'T.

My camera refused to focus on the interior of the basket, I figure out of sheer disgust. I don't blame it at all. Let's just say there was at LEAST an inch of gunk down there.

The gunk is well on its way to fossilization.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, V2.0.

The round part is supposed to be a drain that is NOT halfway blocked with gunk. I think we may have found the problem!

Because no quest is complete without the final Big Boss battle, it is now time to remove the metal screen on the bottom of the machine.

...and then I get to go spelunking down there, sticking my finger in to check and make sure the flapper valve is working. And unhappily, that is the ONLY way to check it, I'VE GOT TO STICK MY FINGER DOWN THERE.

I remove the big metal screen and flip it over...
...and I am all out of $2 cuss words for the previous homeowners at this point and have to repeat myself. I heap imprecations on their offspring, neighbors, co-workers and pets as well while I'm at it.

  
THE BIG SCREEN IN THE BOTTOM OF THE MACHINE HAS GUNK STALACTITES ON THE BOTTOM OF IT.

This thing is supposed to be flat.

Seriously, who shoots themselves in the foot and does this to their own major appliance?!

But all the fun cannot be had just here, and distracting myself isn't going to get that damned sump cleaned out. I have disgusting, stinky, standing water to bail, after all.

Water removed, with the aid of a rag and flowery, exotic, elaborate cussing.
Even after scooping out several inches of gray gunk from The Pit of Despair, I cannot see the bottom of the sump. Gonna close my eyes and think happy thoughts when I go exploring in there.

Welp, the sump and little flapper valve that was the finish to this disgusting quest was every bit as foul as could be hoped. Enough nightmare fodder to last several weeks.

But--hallelujah, brothers, the flapper valve is working! What's more, I FOUND an evil object stuck in the valve and holding it open, causing the problem--surprisingly, it was NOT the 30+ years of gunk, it was this:

A wooden toothpick, snarled up with a twist-tie. I held it up in one triumphant fist ala Lion King, shook it at the sky, and roared 'AH-HA!'

I hope I never have to do anything like this again. Seems I keep saying that, in this house...and I have no doubt that I will, at some point.

Why Humans Suck, Reason #2856

So we've been having a pretty relentless heat wave, and the chickens are suffering. That means in addition to making giant chicken popsicles of raw fruits and vegetables for them to peck at, we go out about every two hours during the worst part of the day to hose off their surroundings--and them. They hate being sprinkled, but it cools them off and keeps them alive.

The kid and I were cleaning out the garage this week and ran across an old yard sprinkler, and thought the chickens could get some use out of it.

So out in the chicken yard it went!

OF COURSE it's a weird thing--this is US, remember.

It's a flamingo that energetically flaps its 'wings' when the water goes through it, spraying water everywhere. It used to be a summer toy for the kid, but if it helps cool off the chickens and keeps them alive, they should be grateful...right?

WRONG.

They ALL immediately high-tailed it over to the extreme far side of the yard, just as far away from Pink Flailing Terror Bird as they could get. In this case, they hunkered down next to the feed shed, which has always protected them and loved them and given them food. No amount of us telling them that this was just another version of Club Flamingo, or calling in sweet, soothing tones could induce them to go near the thing.

YAH THANKS WE HATE IT.

Notice the pointed, searing stare of blame they are laying squarely on ME. They know who is responsible for this, it's just another stupid, sucky human thing the stupid, sucky humans do.

When chickens are really POed at you they will turn their backs on you and pretend you don't exist, effectively shunning you. This technique works for your return after a two week vacation (because to chickens, you gone = you DEAD and gone and they will be righteously angry at you for scaring them like that), when you offend them in some way...or when you place chicken-frightening, weirdo spasmodic objects in their yard.
It's an all-purpose, group punishment that works for anything, really. Chickens HATE change and will chastise you accordingly.

Even Chonk disapproves, and voices her displeasure at her Brahma dignity being so ruffled LOUDLY.

Meanwhile, I can't really say that I blame them. Look at the smug little grin on that smart-ass.

After a while The Pink Terror toppled over--no doubt felled by the flock's group-think mind-kill powers--and we shut the hose off. Only after it stopped flailing did they approach to begrudgingly play in the mud puddle it made.
After all, a mud puddle on a hot day IS a wonderful thing, after all...

Excuse me, I gotta go make some Chicken Apology Popsicles now.

Weird Food And Winter

So...it's been snowing. And snowing. And icing up. And so flippin' flappin' cold we have chosen to hunker down and bake cookies to have with our coffee as we watch the snow fly. The dogs are asleep in the corner and Pong naps under her heat lamp.

Meanwhile...I've been noticing things, cooped up in the house as I am. Like when I opened a new jar of peanut butter and realized it possessed a...belly button.

And an outie, at that.

The next day, lunch surprised me with...a face.

Heh...cabin fever is FUN!

Now to be fair, this is what it was like outside.

It got to be a proper two-day blizzard and laid down about a foot of snow, complete with whiteout conditions making the houses across the street cease to exist and black ice everywhere.

The back yard. Even though the coop and run were open, the chickens refused to come out. Snow must NEVER touch chicken foot, after all.

I leaned out the back door and called, 'Chick-chick-chick!'

Predictably the response was a universal 'Screw you' from the grumpy poultry. They wouldn't even come out of the coop.

Meanwhile, the next morning, the 2019 icicle crop was coming in nicely. This was the view from my kitchen window.

The next day, and now we're talkin', baby.

 Ignore the cobwebs, the spiders took a hankering to this side of the house recently, way up I can't reach and before I could get out there and remove them the bad weather hit.

Also, the one icicle on the left outside the kitchen window is busy forming A HAND.

It'll be the perfect murder when it strangles us all in our sleep, melting away and leaving no trace of itself.

Lordy, things need to thaw out so I can get out of the house again. Meanwhile, off to make zuchinni bread...
Oh, and look on ebay for hatching eggs...Chickam in April!