When I brought my pepper plants inside to overwinter, I did not anticipate an aphid scourge. In fact, I’ve never experienced an aphid problem before, so the threat didn’t register. In the past, I once had a colony attack some bindweed, but as they left everything else alone, I wasn’t concerned, and in fact left the bindweed there as a sort of companion gardening plant.
The chocolate habanero
The trouble is, bringing plants inside and into a controlled environment seems to have eliminated all natural predators. So while I may have always had aphids, their populations were controlled to the point that I never noticed them.
But a few weeks ago, I noticed the colony on my peppers. This particular strain was bright red, so I noticed fairly quickly. But it’s hard to treat big bushy plants inside, and while repeated sprayings lessened the population, I never eradicated it. And the aphids, being amazing specialists, transferred to the other plants. So finally, I had to take extreme measures. I took every infected plant outside to die in the freeze, along with their unwelcome guests.
It’s very annoying to lose plants that I really wanted to keep. From now on, I’ll start new peppers inside in the winter and just let them die at the end of fall. It’s not like I had a shortage of peppers this year. Lesson learned.
–Simon
P.S. Before I wrote this, I was lazily browsing the internet at work. Seeking apparently forbidden knowledge on aphid eradication, my query was blocked:
Snow is becoming exceedingly rare here. We haven’t had a good snow in 3 years. I’m still waiting for a good snow, but we did at least receive some snow–enough for a pleasing vista and a few snowballs to throw at the kid.
Unexpectedly, my colleagues down in Georgia got a foot of snow. Climate change? Nah, it’s probably just the Miser Brothers fighting again.
I wrote recently about my first experience with a Far Cry game: Far Cry 4. I recounted how David Bowie saved me from his homicidal mercenaries and flew me to his personal 5-star diner, only for me to ungraciously sneak away and, after unlocking coop mode, systematically start murdering all his hired help with Joe.
All games have quirks, some by design and some not, like the time I tried to throw a grenade off a moving truck but threw a chuck of meat instead–which still accomplished the objective as wolves showed up and mauled the enemies. I also discovered I’m really careless with stealth, much to Joe’s ire. I flew us over the base we were supposed to capture with a helicopter, thus alerting the keen soldiers to our presence and triggering 2 waves of reinforcements. After killing everyone, Joe showed his irritation with my carelessness by immolating me with a Molotov.
I also managed to grab a couple screenshots for viewing amusement. I figured out how to screen capture from the Xbox itself, then download the captures, so they’re of much better quality than prior attempts of me taking photos of the TV:
I’ll stop killing your men when pigs fly.Looting items from the recently-slain is a primary way to make money, but there are some things I wouldn’t take. Why does the image show it open as if it were already used? And were I to take that, who would buy it?
This valley of death has no end to amusing violence and improbable encounters which lead to…more death. No wonder David Bowie was drawn to this land.
I had two days alone. Such a stretch of time is unprecedented, and I have difficulty with self-management when it comes to leisure. Seriously, I don’t know what to do with myself when no projects are demanding my immediate attention. Then I saw the Fallout 4 expansion was on sale, amusing since I just recently lamented on its price. $12 is fairly reasonable, so I pulled the trigger, and many times thereafter.
[SPOILERS]
Ordinarily after buying a Bethesda DLC, one generally boots the game and waits around for a quest update. In this instance, however, the update happened immediately. Perhaps the DLC was feeling desperate and wanted my attention right away. I was notified of a suddenly new radio broadcast, to which I listened and received a map marker–an entire train terminal that had appeared instantly. How could I not investigate that? I began my journey.
I arrived at the terminal and killed some Gunners, who were apparently there for the same reasons as I–murder and loot. Then I entered the station and a wounded man pleads for me to go save his wife. Further investigation reveals he’s a doorman of sorts, helping to lure people in. I found his role largely unnecessary, seeing as I was already there. And why wouldn’t I continue inside, seeing as I already spent the 12 bucks? No matter, I hop on the monorail and await my destination.
My destination turns out to be a lethal obstacle course. Who would have thought that raiders were so cruel?
At least they have a sense of humor
So I begin, with Piper–my eternally-faithful girlfriend–following along. We shoot a lot of turrets. Piper even goes so far as to taunt them. She has a temper, that one.
That bullet to the knee doesn’t seem to faze her one bit
I kill things, evade traps, set off most of the traps…it was actually a really irritating journey, filled with things I hate in games: platforms and traps and lengthy dungeons. And it took about an hour, too.
Then I arrive in the magical park. I fight a boss battle, am immediately named the new boss, then I wander around the park for a bit seeing the new sights and picking up side quests, as is the Bethesda way.
Then I receive notice that I have to defend one of my settlements so I immediately leave, only to arrive too late. Then then game graphics got all screwy so I did a hard reboot.
Upon restart, the cloud sync deleted all my progress since I installed the DLC. I abandoned the game in irritation.
Maybe I’m just getting old and impatient, or my standards are too high, but I note that many of my game experiences quickly terminate with a glitch or crash. This is why I find Apple’s rallying cry so amusing: “It just works”. And how true is that? If things just worked as intended, then I could actually get around to enjoying and evaluating them.
This wouldn’t have been so bad, had that intro not been so painful and had my saves actually saved. I guess I’ll consider this my $12 Fallout cure. I turned off the Xbox and went to do something else. I’m sure adventure still awaits, but let someone else do it. I saved the Commonwealth and rebuilt civilization. I retire.
Of all cocktails, none are as needlessly pretentious as the martini. I say “needlessly” because there’s a very simple way to make them, with minor variations based on personal preference, as with all cocktails, yet unlike other cocktails, we as a people judge these variations of personal preference as bastardizations of an elitist beverage.
I have a good idea why: James Bond.
“Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.” (Nearby woman starts swooning and taking off her clothes).
Now I’ll add my opinions. Martinis should be gin, not vodka. Vodka can be used of course, but then it’s not a true martini. They should also be stirred and not shaken. Shaking them introduces air which modifies the taste and texture. Of course, this method requires being patient, as one has to allow the gin to sit in the ice for a time to get the right amount of melting–this will drop the gin to the correct temperature as well as enhance the flavor with the small amount of added water. In short–everyone is making their martinis wrong except me. There–pretentiousness achieved.
But enough of that. So I prefer extra-dry martinis. This of course means adding a very small amount of vermouth. In my case, this means a very teensy weensy bit of vermouth, like 2 drops. As family was visiting for Thanksgiving I unsurprisingly sought solace in my liquor cabinet. It had been a while since I had made a martini, and catching a glimpse of the vermouth bottle fancied my whims and I decided it was time.
Apparently my pretentiousness has limits, as I’ve never been one to appreciate more expensive vermouths–probably because I only use 2 drops at a time.
And it’s because I only use 2 drops at a time that I realized that this was the same bottle I’ve had since before I could legally buy it.
That has to be at least 50 martini’s worth
Dry indeed. Perhaps, when I finally finish the bottle, I’ll have achieved ultimate martini-making mastery, and villainous women in fancy hotel bars will swoon over me too.
