Question: I want to plant potatoes here in Las Vegas. Our season is timed different than others, though, so there aren’t seed potatoes available now for a mid- or late July planting.
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It happens to me every time I go on vacation. I go wine tasting, and I want to buy a winery; I go to a coast resort, and I want to buy a bed and breakfast at the shore; I go play golf, and I want to buy a golf course.
You are a big kid. No, you’re not a baby anymore. You can tie your shoes, comb your own hair, and nobody needs to feed you.
For outdoor lovers in Southern Nevada, summer temperatures can bring out severe cases of cabin fever. It is difficult locating a hiking or biking destination with moderate temperatures that isn’t crowded and isn’t too far away.
Q: I read with interest your column in the Review-Journal on watering. Our small lawn seems to be dying in patches. We water four days a week for 20 minutes at 11 p.m. We regularly feed with Turf Builder Plus and Ironite. What should we do?
Depending on which history book you read, World War II officially ended on three different dates 70 years ago. If you live in the United Kingdom, V-J Day (victory over Japan) is celebrated Aug. 14. Or was it Aug. 15, as it is noted (not celebrated) in Japan? In the U.S., however, V-J Day is celebrated Sept. 2, the day Japanese notables were brought aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay to sign the official document of surrender.
Let’s get this out in the open: “Rusty Summer” is OK. A six out of 10, just slightly better than middling. In its favor, I liked the characters in this book; they’re all decent people, the kind you’d want in your corner. I was truly drawn to their good hearts. What I didn’t like was the overabundance of slang here.
Q: I took your advice and am treating pill bugs in my garden like slugs. I have drowned them with beer but they keep coming back. My neighbor is giving me his old cans of beer. I had to dig up the rhubarb plants and put them in pots. This is sure a frustrating year.
His guide, Thelma Rudd, confirmed it. Oliver, known as “Boo” to his classmates because of his pale-pale skin, had been “rebirthed.” He’d “passed” into this place everyone called “Town,” where he’d forever be 13 years old, skinny and non-athletic.