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My state has a vaccination rate of 80% for eligible citizens for which I am quite grateful.
I do however, relate to good ole Mona a little more than I did in the past.
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Global plagues are Hell on the waistline.
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And it won’t be that far from the truth.
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Amen to that.
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And can we really blame them?
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We had an odd sun reflection in our living room last week.
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Strange coincidence … or alien targeting technology?
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Time will tell.
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Martin, I immediately thought of you. But, blech! It’s still a giant no from where I’m sitting.
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A few of my friends might get this for Christmas. You know who you are… but what makes it odd is the label. ‘Nice Stuff For Mom’. I don’t know about you, but I never tipped back half a dozen martinis with my mother.
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And finally, anatomically correct beer glasses. While I can almost see the appeal of the female version…. the hourglass figure makes for a good grip… the male glass is more than a trifle disturbing.
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I woke up this morning to proof of late night visitors.
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Thankfully they weren’t the kind who deploy the anal probe….
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But it does look like they surveyed the Barn Mahal.
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And who could blame them?
Heated winter space with a fully stocked beer fridge is a hard thing to resist for any species…
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Because laughing beats the alternative.
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Please. I’m begging you…
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Anal probe be damned. A day out is a day out.
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Thank you Hubert.
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How about we pee on everyone who refuses to wear one? That might change some minds.
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Run, chicken!
Run!
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Don’t laugh, by January this might be a reasonable option.
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Proof positive Covid is affecting everyone.
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There was a post on our local Facebook page the other day and I thought it warranted a second look.
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Strange signs appearing on your lawn?
My town has an answer.
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Makes sense.
Pee here! Not there…
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I think we all know a few candidates who should have been left far, far behind.
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Bub.
It’s a Maine thing… never mind.
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Aliens!
That’s a blog worthy answer right there.
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Even Google doesn’t have a clue. How often does that happen?
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Yes, he tried… and I’m going to give him points for that.
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The other day during the miraculous (and possibly orchestrated by aliens) garage clean out…. the husband tried to sell some tires.
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No, he didn’t put a price on the sign.
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And bless his heart, the pile got bigger as the day wore on because he kept finding more tires.
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He even went out and artfully arranged all the mismatched, unwanted, never fit any vehicle we owned, tires.
But alas, at the end of the day….
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They ended up in our cellar… where they’ll probably die a slow death because no one else wants our unwanted tires either.
But damn it, he tried.
And I appreciate the effort.
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It’s beginning to feel like Invasion of the Body Snatchers up at Casa River.
There’s a pod here somewhere…. I know it.
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It’s the only possible explanation for why you can currently see the floor… and walls!…. of our garage.
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The look alike alien husband removed the rattle trap archaic blower which was here when we moved in.
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He even *gasp* hung things up. Look, little shelves with neatly coiled tie down straps! Be still my heart.
And then? Excuse me while I reach for my smelling salts… he took his prized 400 lb antique potato planter out of the big barn.
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He loaded it on his truck.
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And gave it to our town’s historical society!
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(I think I may have passed out at this point.)
And just when I was sure my husband had been replaced by an otherworldly facsimile…
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I found him back in the garage knee deep in this.
Delicate apparatus?
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Well, not quite.
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Box full of rusty old tools that haven’t worked since Christ was a Corporal?
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There he is!
Welcome back honey. I missed you…
Our town’s FB page has been filled with blog fodder lately.
Here are a few of the best…
Name That Scat?
You can’t get quality posts like this in the city.
No sir.
Damn, I wonder if that drone crackpot who wrapped himself in tinfoil lives close by?
No anal probes needed here.
This is utterly fabulous.
No joke.
Good thing the husband didn’t see this.
Free is a four letter word as far as I’m concerned.
Christ…
I hope not.
Our townspeople are so helpful.
Because you can never be too prepared for Zombies.
Toilet paper…
What’s that?
The Easter Bunny was spotted last month, although I’m not sure why he needed a cannon.
Thankfully this person lives on the other side of town because while tire planters are never a good idea….
Hot pink tire planters would strain even Mr. Rogers’ love for his neighbors.
Want to put your finger on the pulse of your town?
Check out the Facebook group pages.
No matter how large or small your particular hamlet is, chances are someone, somewhere is administrating a page for it.
I haven’t had so much fun in years!
You’ll learn very quickly who the town gossips are, where to find a free 40 year old slightly faded recliner, which families have been feuding since 1923, who stole the carrots off the honor system garden cart, the residents you should avoid at all costs, and where the best wild raspberries are found.
There are also important things like this:
That’s news you can use people!
Neighbors helping neighbors…
*Note to self- avoid the White Road*
Granted, if you live in the city you won’t have such interesting headlines.
But loose chickens can be a problem anywhere…
River's world..... 