They’re a wee bit confused.

 

I put birdseed out for the birds….

 

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Which the deer eat.

 

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I put apples out for the deer….

 

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Which the woodchucks eat.

 

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Granted, they’re cute as all get out when they do…

 

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But do they have to eat the deer grain as well?

 

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Sometimes they climb right in the bowl and polish it off.

Which leads the deer to eat…

 

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It’s a vicious circle.

And proves that our backyard creatures are a little confused.

Like this Baltimore Oriole….

 

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Who tries to drink from the hummingbird feeder.

 

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Yes, you.

 

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The owner of this house spends a small fortune keeping you in fresh oranges and grape jelly…. don’t get greedy.

Of course….

This guy?

 

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Eats whatever…

 

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And whoever he wants.

 

 

 

It’s pretty damned close….


 

Okay ladies, (Or men. I won’t discriminate) have you ever been to Ulta beauty?

I hadn’t until the other day and my only question is…. why the Hell did I wait so long?

I was like a kid in a candy store, happily skipping up and down the product laden aisles. It was lovely… and I came home with bags full of wondrous scents,   war paint   make up, lotions, soaps and  spackle  face creams.

 

 

A little known fact, but true nonetheless.

The guys will never understand, but a woman’s search for the perfect mascara can be life long.

We need it…. like air.

 

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Am I right?

Of course I am.

 

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Never underestimate the power of cosmetics.

 

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So imagine my excitement when I found this –

 

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Yes, you read it correctly.

 

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Mascara that claims to be better than sex.

You know I had to try it.

 

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The applicator is hourglass shaped…

 

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For obscure Marilyn Monroe reasons.

And while my husband will be glad that I can honestly report it’s not better than sex.

Believe me when I say…

It’s pretty damned close!!

 

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Throwing some questions out into the universe.

 

Why is it that….

Every time you’re in a rush to get out the door?

Great Aunt Trudy will call and want to regale you with detailed stories of her piles.

If I didn’t want to hear about them the last 3 times we spoke? Chances are I really don’t want to hear about them when I’m 10 minutes late for an appointment.

 

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Why is it that

Every time I cut my hand in the kitchen?

I’m in danger of bleeding out because I can’t get the damned Bandaid package open with one hand.

Seriously, WTH?

 

 

Why is it that

Even though I’m a font of useless knowledge, I let my friends down last week when I couldn’t come up with the winning answer in a trivia game tie breaker at my local bar?

 

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But, come on.

Did you know that the original name for the Google search engine was…

BackRub?

No… I didn’t think so.

 

 

Why is it that…

Every time I take the time to wash and wax my car?

It either rains, or a flock of pigeons who’ve just eaten at Chipolte follow me home.

 

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Why is it that….

Every time I think I have absolutely nothing to blog about?

I always manage to come up with something ridiculous.

 

 

You’re welcome.

 

Too busy to enjoy.

 

Memorial Day.

 

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A time to remember and honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

The weekend dawned clear and bright, and while others were out on the lake or enjoying cookouts with friends…

We at Casa River were hard at work.

A winter that didn’t want to let go and one of the wettest springs I can remember left us with an utter nightmare of a landscape. Parts of the lawn have been a swamp for a month and impossible to mow, so this had to happen.

 

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That’s the husband.

Weed wacking the lawn.

You know how they always say the grass is greener over the septic tank?

 

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Believe it.

He was calf deep in a veritable field of thick heavy grass.

 

 

After the weed wacking came the mowing, and after the mowing…

 

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The raking of the mini hay field.

 

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People think we exaggerate when we say it takes the both of us, working all day, to do the weekly lawn maintenance.

We don’t. And it does.

But the weather cooperated for 3 days with warm sun and cool breezes and we got a lot done.

 

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I dragged the deck furniture out of the barn and finished the garden bed I had to redo….

Then hauled in another 30 bags of mulch for some others.

 

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I weeded, and mulched and reset border stones for 10 beds.

All prepped and ready for flowers.

 

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I spent the next day mowing and trimming and cutting back dead shrubs.

 

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And the day after that?

 

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I literally couldn’t move.

Everything that could hurt, did.

Neck, shoulders, arms, thighs, knees and feet.

 

 

Nothing like a long winter of inactivity to show you who’s boss.

I love our yard, but damn.

Sometimes it really kicks my ass.

 

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Have you ever gotten so sidetracked you forgot where you started?

 

I was at Wal Mart the other day and decided to cruise down the clearance aisle. I don’t often shop there, but clearance racks are like thrift stores. You never know what you’ll find.

I found this:

 

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I chuckled. I photographed it. I came home, started to write a blog and thought…..  come on.

How often does corn need to wear a coat?

 

 

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Fair enough… if not slightly disturbing.

Proof positive there’s a Google Image for everything.

And then I saw –

 

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Which is definitely disturbing.

Corn porn?

WTH!

And of course that got me thinking of that damned corn on the cob dildo I found on Amazon a while back, which lead me to –

 

 

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Make of that what you will.

Google Images has a mind of it’s own.

But thinking about disturbing corn also made my mind go here –

 

 

 

Oh, yeah.

Stephen King’s Children of the Corn.

A camp classic.

But not the only strange corn…

 

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And that made me remember Corn Stonehenge.

 

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Yes, it really exists.

Dublin, Ohio

Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic, this former corn field, sprouting 109 people-sized ears of concrete corn in a large oddball art display. But it’s also a salute to Sam Frantz, an inventor of hybrid corns, and a very weird sight along the highway.

Frantz farmed this site from 1935 to 1963, using it as as a study field for tasty mutant strains. Frantz was “well known for his development of hybrid corn seeds,” and worked with Ohio State University on hybridization projects. He donated this land, now named Sam and Eulalia Frantz Park, after its farming days were over.

 

Field of Corn.

 

The artist brought in by the Dublin Arts Council to create the environment of corn, Malcolm Cochran, completed the field in 1994.

Intended by the Arts Council to remind residents of the area’s long-gone agricultural heritage, the Field of Corn instantly became a joke — giant inedible food — paid for with tax dollars, and surrounded by a sprawl of corporate offices, bland businesses and suburban neighborhoods.

 

 

And now, I totally want to go and take a corn selfie.

 

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(Admit it… you do too.)

But if that isn’t enough corn cuteness for you?

 

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Here’s a capybara.

In a pool.

Eating corn.

Just because I can.

From Wal Mart’s clearance aisle to giant rodents eating corn.

That’s the very definition of sidetracked.

 

Meet Great Grandpa….

 

 

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Okay, technically he’s my 8th great grandfather.

Though I can’t say I see the resemblance.

I’ve been shaking the family tree again and found Sir Adrian Scrope…. born in 1601, matriculated at Harts Hall, Oxford. A military man, he obtained the rank of colonel before it all went bad.

 

 

Very, very bad.

 

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Scrope was one of the regicides who surrendered at the Restoration of Charles II. The House of Commons voted to pardon him under the Act of Indemnity, but the House of Lords demanded that all the regicides should be brought to trial. Scrope was condemned to death when Major-General Richard Browne testified that Scrope had justified Charles I’s execution to him even after Charles II’s return. He was hanged, drawn and quartered at Charing Cross on 17 October 1660.

 

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An account of his behaviour in prison and at the gallows describes him as “a comely ancient gentleman”, and dwells on his cheerfulness and courage.

 

Cheerful at the gallows?

Well, good for him.

I can’t say his 8th great granddaughter would have been quite so chipper.