Because it’s so much more interesting than news you can.
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That’s good to know. I’m tired of worrying about Covid anyway.
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Why the alarm? I think they sound perfectly delightful.
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Yes, I’m here to tell you first hand… it most definitely is happening. On the plus side, this is the first time I’ve been glad I came up allergic to lobster 9 years ago.
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Of course she did. I would expect nothing less.
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Mr. Happy? How can you tell….
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And is it me…. or is this one of those owners who starts to resemble their pet?
The husband and I each received a check in the mail the other day.
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No, it’s not another round of Covid stimulus money. It’s a distribution from what is apparently a huge stash of surplus tax revenue.
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Every Maine resident received them and while extra money is always nice, it does make me wonder why there was such a huge surplus to begin with. Clearly our taxes are too high and to be honest… I’d much rather they reduce that burden then send everyone a check. Or they could fix the roads and bridges. Or build affordable housing. Or expand the heating oil assistance program. With the current price of fuel, winter will break a lot of people.
And if you’re wondering how that money will be used at Casa River?
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It will try to slake the never ending thirst of our twin oil tank beasts. And at just over $5 a gallon? Both checks combined won’t come anywhere near to filling them.
Warning- disturbing, graphic images of a dead animal ahead.
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Still here? Okay then…
I woke up the other morning and thought I saw something strange on the front lawn. Still in my pajamas, I asked the husband to investigate. He came back inside with a strange look and a reticence to tell me what he’d found. After much shuffling of feet and stalling.. he told me Momma woodchuck had been killed.
I couldn’t believe it. She’s a tough old lady and I literally watched her chase off a fox last year.
Much as I didn’t want to, I had to see for myself.
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Poor thing.
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Something… coyote? fisher?… had ripped it apart. But as awful as it was, I told my husband the good news. It wasn’t momma chuck.
He thought I was nuts and proceeded to deal with the corpse. He said I couldn’t possibly tell one woodchuck from another … but I knew.
And a few hours later?
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Momma chuck and her baby enjoying some leftover deer grain.
Silly man. He should never doubt my ability to identify the critters I feed.
Far be it for me to criticize the construction methods of others. Heck, I married a man who doesn’t know the meaning of square and whose carpentry techniques can best be described as a little off. But I did have to do a double take while driving past this build the other day.
When a storm is moving in and thunderstorms are threatening? That’s when my husband decides it’s a good time to start installing a barn gutter and downspout.
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How close was the storm?
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Basically right overhead.
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So when the sky opened up and rain started pouring down? There was only one thing to do…
The search for items to sell at a flea market continues and things are being belched up from the basement at an alarming rate. I don’t know if he’ll ever actually go through with this plan, but he certainly is enjoying the trips down memory lane.
Today’s treasure?
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The 1967 version of an adult party game. And judging from the look on that woman’s face, insufficient martinis were consumed before play began.
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The game is simple. 24 cards are placed on top of the feely box, you draw one… then reach inside to pull out the corresponding item.
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Yes, those are teenie tiny dentures. 1967 sounds like a blast.
If you remember from a previous post, I’m highly susceptible to the dreaded brown tail moth rash. Seriously, if there’s one of those little bastards in my neighborhood, my town or even my county… it will find me and make me pay.
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Their hairs are microscopic and if you come in contact? You’ll know it within a few hours. Which is what happened to me after weeding my perennial bed the other day, even though I wore gloves and made a point to avoid brushing up against the tree.
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My knee…
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And arm a few hours after showering. I had the rash on my legs, my back, my stomach, my arms and especially my right knee. That section of flesh was positively on fire with uncontrollable itching… and by the next day?
* warning – if you’re eating while reading this, you might want to skip the next picture *
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My right knee looked like Mount Vesuvius, and not in a good way. Failing to understand why this particular body part suffered such an extreme reaction, I examined the pillow I was crouching on and sure enough… I had squished a moth to death on the right side and ground his toxic hairs deep into my epidermis.
Life has not really been worth living this week, and if you happen to have any extra rough grade sandpaper lying around… feel free to send it my way so I can rip off what’s left of my skin.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 