Live, Laugh, Lethal: The Blog Finale Pt 1.

“Et tu, Brute?” — Julius Caesar

So,

This is the 52nd weekly blog post. Yes, I’ve been writing this trash for a year now. I figure we will celebrate in standard 1980’s “season finale” style. Complete with the ridiculous plot hook at the end. Don’t rush it….. we’ll get there.

See what I did there?

Anyway it’s been a busy week.

First, we are continuing to clear the trees away from the garden beds and the house.

This tree came down particularly well. One of the cleaner wedges I’ve ever cut, and perfect hinge wood left. Like a damn “how to” diagram. I don’t know how I pulled that crap off…. The Boy just happened to be filming it for some reason, so here - logging pron. These trees are nowhere near as big as back in the PNW, but they are by no means easy to drop. We are well over our needs for next winters’ wood, but there are about 5 that need to go.

How much wood can a woodchuck chuck? Find out next season.

This is what ‘s called a “MacGuffin”, it’s a plot device used to drive action. They teach you that in “influencer school”.

The Wife wants to give y’all a report on the frozen eggs. Not that kind, the ones we did a few months back. Check it out

Notice the headspace left in the jar. This is a good thing so your jars don’t break when frozen. Also she wants you all to know to just leave it on the counter the night before, not in the fridge as it may not thaw out fast enough.

I report no color loss, but the texture when thawed out is a little thicker than normal when cooking. Taste is fine, and I’m sure it would work just fine in baking or complex dishes.

Will we provide more culinary / medicinal* recipes? That, and many other questions will be answered next season.

We did our taxes this week. This is my happy face.

However much you hate these people, I assure it’s not nearly enough.

Will we attempt to write off this blog next year? Find out next season.

On to unscheduled vehicle maintenance:

So…the radiator in the truck took a shit last Friday.

So I call up O’riley’s and order up a radiator. Cause…..fuck savings am I right? damn right. I yank the thing out in the evening so we can be ready to install in the morning right? By the way if you guessed “failed right on the plastic seam”, you get a cookie. Whoever decided to save a gorram nickel in production of critical automotive components by building them out of plastic - If you’re listening: FUCK YOU. Seriously…… way to save a nickel you cheap bastard!

Anywho….. I get me a ride in Saturday to pick up the radiator that had to be airlifted in from civilization. I get this thing home (along with the other parts and bits) and guess what? If you guessed “the plastic shit on the radiator was broken in the box”, you get another cookie. I call them up and am like “what the hell man”. They manager orders a brand new one, on the house. No problem! come get it TUESDAY.

Here we are all put back together. It’s frustrating to have to sit on your ass for 4 days to get parts that can be plugged in and completed in like 45 minutes. Welcome to current year. Everything seems to be working just fine - but will it last? Tune in next season for an update!

I’m sure you all remember this one.

Our production company and FarmDog © have been in talks for the past few weeks. Fan favorite? Maybe. Ratings draw? Definitely. But for some reason, FarmDog’s © agent hasn’t confirmed a Season 2 appearance yet, but TMZ is reporting that negotiations reportedly involve a custom orthopedic bed and unlimited string cheese.

The Metrics show that FarmDog © tested through the roof in the Nielsen demos—especially 18-34s and golden retriever households—but no word yet on contract renewals. Will she return? Only time (and treats) will tell.

This is another plot device used to build up tension and get you, the reader, emotionally invested in the outcome.

As teased in a few semi -cryptic text messages, we decided to bomb Yemen we have been taking pictures of the beginning of this Season‘s garden.

This is the beginning of this year’s first potato bed. Potatoes are what’s called a “pioneer crop” meaning they aren’t particularly picky with the soil used. this bed is planted into last years tomato and pepper bails. The composting process from last years straw bail beds broke them down into semi - compost dirty straw. Its mixed with a bit of dirt, leaves, and wood bits. I pulled it over the top of the potatoes, and will mound up with more proper soil once they begin to grow out of it.

The Daughter and I started a bunch of seeds the other day too. Tomatoes, peppers, squashes, melons, corn, and a bunch of other stuff also.

Will the seeds germinate? Will the potatoes make it, or will we all starve to death? Only one way to find out.

And so the week ends—not with a whisper, but with a chainsaw. The logs are stacked. The potatoes are in the ground. The taxes? Dubiously filed. The radiator? Suspiciously silent. The dog? Negotiating.

We laughed. We lived. We simmered questionable sauces and questioned life’s deductions.

And just as we reached for the last seed packet… the wind shifted.
A figure stood at the edge of the garden, framed by twilight and loose IRS documentation.

Standing at the edge of the yard—mud-streaked boots, unfamiliar eyes, clutching a bag of heirloom carrot seeds like a cryptic offering.

“You don’t remember me,” she whispered.
“But I remember… the sourdough.”

Long-lost. Presumed unfollowed. Back from wherever bloggers go when they vanish after week 14.

Everything’s about to change.

To be continued… in Live, Laugh, Lethal: The Blog Finale Pt 2