All posts by Rivergirl

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You know I have to share these things.

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I do. Even though I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t.

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Yes, this exists. Though I think they’re wrong about the Olympic event.

And if you’re thinking…. that’s great River, but I don’t really care for cereal?

I’ve got your back.

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Pooping Champion Gummies.

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And tea.

You’re welcome.

But if that’s not enough to get you excited about this oh so helpful product? Visit their website and check out the fabulous club you can join.

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Now tell me you don’t want to be a card carrying member of that!

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Because some things are best left unexplored.

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Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.

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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.

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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.

While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.

As this one did the other day:

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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.

Trust me on this.

Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.

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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.

There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.

And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?

This:

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And this:

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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.

Man meat.

What have I done!

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I have to admit this one got me thinking…

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What is it they say…?

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Revenge is a dish best served cold.

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Hmm. I’d have no problem with supply, momma red squirrel reproduces like a rabbit.

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Now I love me some biscuits and gravy… but no.

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And though I’ve been known to make a mean gumbo…. again, no.

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Squirrel ravioli? Can’t quite wrap my mind around that.

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While I admit they annoy me to no end, that image is a trifle disturbing.

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Fried squirrel heart on crackers with cheese? You don’t see that on many appetizer trays.

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Squirrel lard cookies.

Is it me…. or do they look like little nut topped turds?

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Because my readers are a high class bunch.

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A new follower is always a lovely thing.

Unless it’s a bot, a business or one of those endless fake blogs I zap on a daily basis.

Last week?

A new follower of the utmost distinction joined my list. There he is, right at the top.

⬇️

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Yes, The World’s Best Farter has joined our ranks. I’m not sure whether to be flattered or disturbed, but welcome Mr. Farter.

Pull up a chair.

Preferably over there, in the far corner.

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Now admit it…

You’re jealous he found me first.

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Yay me…?

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A blogging milestone was reached by yours truly recently.

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Although I’m not sure recognition was necessary.

Now if they had a banner that said, Congratulations on posting copious amounts of useless drivel people inexplicably continue to read I could understand it.

I mean really, celebrating this post –

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Where I wax poetic about meatless meat and utterly wrong rice seems a trifle excessive.

But who am I to argue with the WordPress gods?

I’ve been here since July of 2018 and have thoroughly enjoyed the experience. If the powers that be choose to recognize my productivity? Who am I to argue.

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Yup. That’s me.

If you can’t dazzle them with content, flood them with redundancy.

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And on the 3,037th day….

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There was heat.

Yes, that’s really how long we’ve been working on the big barn. Saying we don’t like to rush things is a bit of an understatement.

But last week, this happened:

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The son of our soon to be ex friends came over to install a heat pump. It’s his business, and while I’m still cursing our rat bastard friends for giving us the free pool table that’s cost us thousands… their son is a great guy.

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Of course he might have been cursing them as well because drilling a hole through a building my husband built isn’t as easy as it should be.

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What should have taken mere minutes turned into a bit of an ordeal. And when that happens…

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You grab a hammer.

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After the hole was finally cut, it was just a matter of mounting the unit.

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With my husband… the man who has never lined up anything perfectly straight in his life…. standing back and saying, nope. It needs to go up a little on the left.

I believe my jaw dropped open at that point.

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Outside, the electrician connected power to the box… next to all the scrap wood that had to be hauled from under the barn to run the cable.

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And the rest of the crew installed the compressor thingamagig.

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Which is ugly as all get out but thankfully is on the one barn wall we can’t see from our house.

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I was glad to see they used great stuff. Because I’m sure awful stuff is more readily available, not to mention cheaper.

So…

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The big barn now has a heat pump. And future bar patrons can be assured of proper ambient drinking temperature.

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Cost of that free pool table so far?

$7,764. And no, he’s not done yet. The open stairwell still needs to be sealed off to prevent heat loss.

Free.

It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

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We’re quite fawn’d of them.

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Blue eyed Bambi is a frisky little devil.

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Running circles around his old momma.

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Yes, I give the poor old girl strawberries and blueberries.

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The little one stays close.

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Our resident buck must be getting ready for the rut because we rarely see him these days.

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And this year’s twins are on their way to adulthood.

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Below is our dark doe on the right, so named because her coat never really fades in the summer. She’s a big healthy girl.

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