Vindictive fool

No, not the President. It's the neighborhood bully, or the village idiot, take your pick. Some of us have been working hard to get him to follow the rules with his planned development of a 21-acre shorefront lot. He finally withdrew his plan and said he was going to make Silver Lake public "like you've never seen it public before." Apparently he's placed a huge ad in the Lake Placid paper--according to Linda quoting Fred--

advertising that Silver Lake is
"a private lake now open to the public". His ad notes
the following:

Because of the Adirondack Council's input and the fact
that private camp owners do not want any more
development on Silver Lake, the Douglas family is
opening to the public. We are even considering
giving a Public Boat Ramp to NYS"


Although I doubt he would give the State a boat ramp, since that would compete with his for-profit boat launch, this ad sure shows what a jackass he is. He used to have his operation open to the public, so one might interpret this as no big deal. I know he's thinking people will come by the busload to launch their boats on Silver Lake and park their boats in front of the camps of those of us who spoke out against him, but I bet a lot of people will just want to swim at his beach. Plus there might be canoeists and kayakers. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.

Other news is that I'm having a hard time getting over the grippe I've had for a week now. I have bad lung problems, asthma and cough. I think the air conditioning and moist air at work is a problem because I cough visciously while I'm here but as soon as I get home I relax and my head and lungs seem to clear. Or maybe these people just make me nervous. Anyway, I'm using my inhalers (as my doctor told me to on Tuesday after asking me why I wasn't already using them), sucking down Tussin with codeine, wheezing and hacking away. While I catalog articles Robert Louis Stevenson wrote in various popular magazines during the 1880's. Not the actual articles, but using information from catalog cards. big yawn.

I have to mow my lawn, but I'm fearful of what this will do to my lungs. It has to be done and I will approach the project judiciously. We've had so much rain recently that the grass is really long. I also need to work in the garden, making spaces for my seedlings, mulching and fertilizing my pitiful little tomato plants. They look really pathetic right now, only about 4" tall. The hostas and astilbe I bought from the nursery in Jay last summer, however, are spectacular. That's a great place to get plants from and Fred and I will no doubt return there soon. When we win the lottery. The lilies I got there are coming along nicely, too.

Book group meets at the boat house this Sunday. We read The lobster chronicles by Linda Greenlaw. It's short, and very nice. Memoir. She moved back to the island of her youth to become a lobsterwoman. The stuff about living on the island, where there are 42 year-round residents is really cool, and the stuff about lobstering is interesting but of course I was unable to picture it. And my imagery is tainted by the TV series about crab fishing in the Bering Sea called The Deadliest Catch, where they get hit by 20' waves and have to hack ice 2' thick off the 100' boat so it won't tip over, and the traps weigh 800 lbs. So I think lobstering is quaint.

It's time for me to start sleeping in the boat house, I think night time temps are warm enough. I hate waking up to a cold room so I wait until it's around 60 at night before I go down there. How spoiled am I? Very.

Nice walk this morning, down to the end of my road. I've only walked the past 2 mornings, badly in need of exercise and distraction. The bugs have abated so I've no excuse now. No, indeed not. Get out there girl--why do you live where you do? You could watch TV sitting in an apartment in Plattsburgh.