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We had a spell of wicked dry weather this summer. No rain for weeks… so everything was brown and dry.
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Including the chucker family. They’re too short to reach the bird bath I kept filling, so I took to offering them a drink on their level.
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I’d never watered woodchucks before and wasn’t sure how they’d take to it….
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But the poor thirsty things ran right to the bowl as soon as I walked back into the house.
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Guess they needed something to wash down those weeds.
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Because it looks like we’re going to need these again.
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It’s true. I’m starting to feel like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
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Agree or disagree, it’s still funny.
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Yes! That’s it exactly….
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I fill those darned things three times a day, stop complaining.
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No political comments necessary.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is a good cat…. for the most part. When we first adopted him he had an annoying habit of scratching the furniture but my purchase and rapid deployment of a tiny water pistol solved that problem lickety split. His highness does not like to get wet.
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Well, it wasn’t swift. But lately, I have to say…. it’s been quite thorough. Instead of scratching the furniture? He’s decided to unravel our Berber carpet one loop at a time.
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Every morning I wake up to new section of destruction….
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And I have to say, I am not pleased.
Lord Dudley?
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He denies everything and points at my husband.
We don’t have a dog… the cat has to blame someone.
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Because I know I don’t.
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Lately the man cave/Barn Mahal has been our money sucking box….
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But I agree, that one is much creepier.
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Okay, I admit a yodeling pickle might be a nice screaming goat accompaniment at our bar… but I restrained myself from ordering one.
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Yeah. I can do without that as well.
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Sorry, but there’s not a board game on earth that would make me want to eat my husband’s Uncle Donny.
Nope.
Not happening.
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I don’t often catch the baby woodchucks nibbling my flowers but this little dude was quite brazen.
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Strolled right up on the deck and started chewing the bloomless petunia I’d transplanted from the garden to a pot because they were eating it.
Yeah.
That worked well….
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Because this month’s issue was extra horrible and requires two posts.
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Sorry Cara, but I definitely don’t want to hear all about your sex toys.
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Golden penis syndrome. If nothing else? Receiving this gift subscription has made me aware how utterly out of touch I am.
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As if you men don’t think your wands have magic powers already. Geesh.
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Interesting demographic there. All in the south except one town in Massachusetts. Wonder why…?
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No, I didn’t tear that article out and I didn’t tuck it under my mattress. I did give brief thought to sending a copy to Monica Lewinsky… but alas, I think that ship has sailed.
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Last weekend we invited the husband’s 4 sisters who live in Maine to a barbecue/pool tournament/behold the majesty of the Barn Mahal man cave/ party. It was a good time… except for one dastardly deed. You see one of his sisters brought this:
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After I specifically said we were grilling filet mignon… she had the audacity to contribute to the feast.
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A dozen lobsters, fresh from the ocean that morning. Damn her rotten black soul!
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I had to watch those succulent creatures being disbanded…
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Dropped in the pot…. ( Only 2 inches of water please. We steam, not boil )
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Covered with a lid ( And a brick. They tend to buck when dying. Hell, wouldn’t you? )
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Oh, the horror!
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The horror of watching everyone tuck into the delightful crustaceans I can no longer eat.
It was Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.
😫😫😫
The only pleasure I took was not being able to find our crackers and picks. Substitutions had to be made.
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Good thing the tool box was close by.
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The husband was schooled at the pool table by two of his sisters, which I thought was fitting punishment for consuming and enjoying lobster in front of his now allergic wife.
But once the party was over, the mess cleaned up and everyone went home… what was almost worse than watching everyone eat them?
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Seeing the two leftover red beauties every time I opened the fridge the next day and knowing I couldn’t make a lobster roll.
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Hell, I tell you.
It was Hell.
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Because I never run out of drivel.
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I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess most of those voters were male.
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I followed this truck the other day and it made me smile. The Russians are coming? As long as they bring vodka and pelmeni I’m probably alright with that.
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O. M. G.
I may never go in my closet after dark again….
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I bought quack snacks for our visiting pair of mallards. I bought two bags because I’m a generous duck loving person.
Did the ducks appreciate my effort and generosity? They most certainly did not. And refused to eat one single lousy bite.
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Ungrateful little bastards.
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I really wish they were month lilies.
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Because they’re a wonderful pop of color in the garden and a day just isn’t enough.
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I have them scattered here and there around the property.
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And while this dark pink is my favorite, it’s never grown larger… though I planted it 17 long years ago.
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This line of hostas and day lilies was here when we moved in… and though it’s not a good spot, I’ve yet to relocate them.
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This double ruffle is sweet.
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But the stormy sky behind my backyard patch?
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Not at all sweet.
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Apologies to my male readers, but it’s that time again. Time to question why anyone in their right mind reads this magazine.
This months issue of the gift that keeps on giving (whether I want it to or not) includes a discussion on bathing suit thongs.
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Please feel free to weigh in.
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Sphincter dental floss. Not likely to erase that mental image for the rest of the day are you?
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Eww. While I’m technically not against the trend…. I never thought of that!
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Less wedgie potentially? It’s specifically designed to be a wedgie. Your argument is invalid.
This next article made even me look twice.
Last chance guys…. if you don’t leave now I won’t be held responsible.
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I did warn you.
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If it’s that common, how did I not know this!
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Holy crap!
I can’t even imagine….
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River's world..... 