And the ridiculous things they post on their Facebook page.
Must float didn’t seem too much to ask… which is why some smart ass posted this photo:
I love smart asses.
In other news, coyotes.
We hear them all the time. It’s quite eerie…
Free roosters are the one and only free item I can’t talk my husband into.
Hoe downing squirrels are nothing to take lightly, trust me on this.
The world really has gone crazy.
And I love what people post on its Facebook page.
If you see it? Please tell it we serve a daily and nightly buffet free of charge.
I’m not exactly sure what constitutes ‘groovy’ lamb.
But I’m pretty sure this isn’t it.
Jumping orangey peach colored fish?
Thanks 2020. Like this year wasn’t weird enough.
I have to admit I’d never even heard of letterboxing before.
Sounds like a perfect Covid era activity though.
Normally I’d say friend.
But it’s 2020, for all we know that thing is radioactive.
A giant vacuum cleaner?
Well, yeah. They want us to social distance… so just stick the hose end into your local pub and switch her on.
I also love all the ridiculous things people post about on its Facebook page.
In case you were wondering, no one volunteered to remove the stinky little bugger and he was released.
A reasonable response, but hell.
I didn’t even know we had a potato truck!
I showed this to the husband…. but he said there’s no room in the barn.
I don’t know…
I hate when someone beats me to the perfect comment, don’t you?
A chicken plucker!
I’m shivering in avian sympathy.
Let’s start with a beautiful picture I snapped the other night when we took a ride up the coast.
Maine summer on the ocean.
You can’t beat it.
Our neighbor invited us over to see their tree house up close and personal.
Yes, the tree adjacent tree house I complained about in my blog a while back.
So… which one of you weasels ratted me out?
Or rather, the death of them… is driving me to drink.
Make the next one a double.
Grocery store bouquets.
Because sometimes a girl just has to buy herself flowers.
Socks… for my table?
Wonder if the dryer will eat those as well.
And finally, because you know I couldn’t resist….
Where else can you go shopping and be greeted by a chicken?
Although what this poor devil did to be locked up in a rubber prison I don’t know.
Where else can you go to find a library that sets up a walking story time for kids?
Where else can you get alerts about runaway goats?
And offers of free hay?
The same place that airs their poopy grievances on Facebook, that’s where.
I love my town!!
Because laughter is literally the only medicine.
I haven’t walked into a bar in 142 days.
Let that sink in…. and tell me pigs aren’t flying somewhere.
Correct signage has never been more important.
I’m beginning to notice a trend.
We probably are.
Finally, a way to make men wear masks!
Thank you Katie.
And if all that was too depressing, let me leave you with this…..
I mean really.
It physically hurt.
But I was with the husband and he looked at me like I was a lunatic when I told him I needed to try on a pair.
I could totally have rocked these during mud season.
And their slightly off balance Facebook page.
Not off hand, no.
But I hope he finds one. Pigless is a terrible thing to be.
This picture of our local sheriff’s truck was posted by a resident.
Because really, who needs blue lights when you have a chicken?
This post was met with the incredulity and the scathing derision it deserved . Reveal your fiddlehead location? To a stranger!!
Mainers have been killed for less.
Fiddleheads are a precious ($15-$20 per pound) and extremely fleeting commodity in the spring. Locals protect their secret gathering spots like they do their virgin daughters. Personally I can’t stand the slimy things…
But Mainers go berserk for them.
And speaking of barely edible food, some well meaning townie posted this:
Now really, if I’m not going to eat the delicate unfurled leaves of a fern?
You can damn sure bet I’m not baking helicopter seed pods that look like bugs.
Because we all still need a laugh.
Now that’s just rude.
This looks like a great idea since I always whup the husband at gin rummy and he won’t play with me anymore.
*Note to self – borrow neighbor’s rooster*
I really do miss traveling.
Even if it’s just to the next town.
Gwyneth (correct spelling) can bite me.
( Did I already post this one? Maybe… but the sentiment holds true. )
They think they know everything. It happens to be tequila.
Stuff it Mittens.
Jesus… neither do I!
(Because we all need to laugh or we’ll kill the spouses we’re locked in the house with.)
This person found an interesting, albeit slightly creepy…. way to re-purpose Amazon boxes.
Imagine putting a leash on that and taking it out for a walk?
Here…. our niece’s son used his spare time to jump on a trampoline with his chicken.
The chicken was unavailable for comment.
I admit I didn’t know about the latest ribbon trend…
But I sure do wish I lived in this fellow’s neighborhood.
Margarita home delivery?
Long live the quarantine!