Library Notes
September 3, 2004
By Pansy Hundley, Librarian.
Now that the vacation is over, I must get back to work, people. I began that work by actively deciding to annihilate the Dallas grass in my front yard. Matter of fact, my front yard was Dallas grass, with a little Bermuda thrown in.
That fount of grass-knowledge, Charles Morrow, told me what to spray that grass with. He even went home and got me some of his concentrate in a bottle to mix with water, so the spraying could begin immediately.
I drug out my 3-gallon sprayer, refreshed my memory as to how to operate that lil’ darling. It had been so long in disuse, we hardly recognized each other.
Charles said it was best to spray that yard when it was really hot. And, honey, it was really hot that day. David Fenfrock said the temperature was 99, with a heat index of 102. Well, he wasn’t in my front yard! The heat index there had to be about double that.
As a friend of mine is fond of saying to his skinny wife, "You don’t sweat much for a fat lady". Well, honey, the sweat sure poured off me. If someone had kept the sweat off my forehead I could have worked much faster. Every time I bent over, the sweat dropped on my glasses and the Dallas grass became a blur.
Those sweat-wiping paper towels I had in my pocket didn’t stay dry any time at all. Yeah, I know that ladies from the South don’t sweat. But, Southern Belles don’t get out in the front yard and work like a mule. They sit on the veranda and sip lemonade.
The mosquitoes were all lined up and waiting when I came out the door that day. If I miss even one little tiny place with the mosquito spray, they find it. They even bite me on the elbow. These are evidently very hungry mosquitoes. I distinctly heard one say "Shall we eat her here or take her down to the swamp?" To which the other answered" No, if we take her to the swamp, the big ‘uns will get her." Evidently they decided to "eat her here" because that’s what they did.
Between pumping up the sprayer, carrying the sprayer, directing the hose and slapping mosquitoes, I got even busier. I kept hoping that as they flew me by the door of the house, I could reach in and grab the "Off", but no such luck. I finally had to put everything down and make my 900th trip into the house and drench myself again. I thought I was already drenched, so I guess I double-drenched.
My yard multiplied with each round I made. By the time, hours later, after the sun had already sunk in the West, I figured my front yard has a total of 900 acres and some. But, for goodness sakes, don’t tell the Appraisal District that I have that much land.
I have so many sprays at my house, I have to stop and make sure I’m picking up the right spray for the right thing. I don’t think it’ll help my Cassidy Dog if I spray her with rose spray for fleas. I have spray for weeds, fleas, chiggers, bugs on roses, black spot on roses, Dallas grass, more blooms on roses, etc., etc. But, don’t stop by my house to shop, because I need ‘em all.
If I wasn’t having enough trouble already with the mosquitoes and chiggers, then the ants moved in. On one of those 900 trips into the house, where icicles about formed , as my wet clothes met the air conditioned air, I put me a Dr. Pepper in my traveling mug with the lid. Boy, that tasted good, to stop now and then and "have a drank". I put that mug down on the sidewalk, way away from my spraying. After a bit more sweatin’ and sprayin’, I went over to have another refreshing "drank" and the ant colony had beat me to it. Ants had completely covered the top with some already swimming inside, and more cousins on the way. So much for that cool, refreshing drink. I must have smacked too loudly.
With all the varmints on the attack, I figured the ticks had started out by wagon train from Oklahoma to join the fray. I knew that I shouldn’t have eaten so much strawberry ice cream in my life. Now, I must taste like those strawberries.
Finally, finally, as dusk was settling in and my arm was about to fall off from holding and spraying that 900 acres, I got to the end.
When I spray something to kill it, I w3ant to see it laying on the ground the next morning, wilted, brown, dead and gone-e-e-e. Well, Charles told me this would take two weeks to be gone-e-e-e. The poison had to go all the way to the root.
So, as I inspect my front yard, I must practice patience. Patience now, Pansy, patience…………
While that poison kills that Dallas grass, as I wait with patience, let’s just forget it and read a book. Sounds good to me! If I ever get all this yard work done and have time, that is.
"Memorial Day", written by Vince Flynn, has been on the Best Seller List recently. It’s right up to date, too. We’re looking at the CIA, al Qaeda, Afghanistan and Pakistani involved in this book. Here we are.
"It’s just seven days before Memorial Day, and the nation’s capital is buzzing with last-minute preparations for the unveiling of the magnificent new memorial honoring the men and women who fought in World War II. Despite the hopeful energy of the city, Mitch Rapp senses trouble. A spike in CIA intelligence has pointed to a major terrorist attack on the United States. Now it’s up to Rapp to pull out all the stops.
Rapp immediately leaves for Afgfhanistan, where he leads a special forces unit on a daring commando raid across the border into a remote Pakistani village. Their target: an a; Qaeda stronghold. With a subterranean room, Rapp and his tem discover a treasure trove of maps, computers, files and bills of lading for multiple freighters heading to U.S. ports – all pointing to plans for a catastrophic nuclear attack on Washington, D.C.
Information is quickly relayed back to CIA headquarters, and a nuclear emergency support team scrambles to the scene. In a few hours, the freighters have been located and disarmed and the danger has been averted. Or has it?
Despite all the backslapping and congratulations, Mitch Rapp can’t shake the feeling that the operation seemed just a bit too easy. Rapp follows his instincts on a quest to unearth the whole truth. What he finds is truly terrifying, and with Memorial Day closing fast, Rapp must find a way to prevent a disaster of unimaginable proportions."