Stings and things

I managed to figure out some more of the inner workings of the Linux accounting program; I am so used to Quickbooks automating the double entry system that the GnuCash way was confusing. I went on a quest to find my old college accounting course textbook, and am relearning some stuff from it. I can now create invoices, do accounts receivable and accounts payable, and hopefully make payroll. It isn't as easy as my old way, but we do not have much of a business left so I should be able to get along. I also have spreadsheet templates to be used if needed.
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Yesterday afternoon was back to the market on hwy 107. They had some more fresh corn and okra, but the latter had too many black spots so Carolyn did not buy any; black spots usually mean tough okra. We drove back via Dry Creek where we stopped at Jerry's and gave him a sack of corn. I decided to fool around in the local junk yard a bit to see if there was anything suitable for photographing and came within a step of putting my foot right on a small hole in the ground that was in actuality the entrance to a yellow jacket's subterranean nest. Yellow jackets are a wasp about the size of a honey bee. The video is of a similar hole that someone else encountered. In my life I've had many fleet run-ins with these fellows, and it used to be after one or two stings I was far enough away not to be bothered anymore. These days are different: having to use a cane just to walk precludes any running away, and to make things worse, I have developed an allergic reaction to bee and wasp poison. If I get stung it is much like being in the presence of a pretty woman; my pulse and breathing become rapid, my blood pressure falls to the point where I become light-headed, I start sweating, and if I don't lie down I will fall down. My dad was even worse off; if he got stung he had to immediately go to an emergency room to get an anti-venom injection or he risked dieing. It has been many years since I have been stung, so I do not know what my body's reaction would be now.

After leaving Jerry's, we drove part way up the mountainside on a rough fire access road. There was not much to see, and Carolyn did not like the ruts, so I turned around and came home.
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Last night was the big NASCAR race at Bristol, a huge facility that is a bit less than a 30 min. (normally) drive from my house. I used to religiously watch it on tv each year, but since the organization made all the cars look exactly alike, I have completely lost interest, and so have a lot of other people. That fact--along with a suffering economy--has put attendance at the tracks way down for the past two seasons. The big telling point is that many race fans are not watching the events on tv either. There were a lot of fans like myself that were brand loyal, and the only thing about the cars now that has to do with brand is the engine and some decals that proclaim the marque; they can--and do--swap engine brands and decals from car to car, and no one can tell the difference. The drivers are a very talented group of whiny-assed kids, and that does little to promote the sport among people who like to see good racing and not have to listen to a bunch of blame laying because only one of them won. Not a race goes by without some kind of dirty laundry being publicly aired.
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The Smoking Gun's Mugshots of the Week!