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When you live in the country, the news is rarely exciting or dangerous. It is however filled with eggs.
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That’s one busy chicken.
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Try as I might, I can not convince my husband we need a cow. Even a sweet, well deserving pregnant cow who will save us money on milk.
😩
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It seems like everyone’s chickens are busy.
Fresh and free. You can’t beat that.
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The husband has a standing Sunday afternoon pool game with the little old man up the road. He’s a widower my other half met years ago at breakfast, and as soon as we remodeled the barn into a man cave… the weekly game commenced.
Last week a few other friends showed up and team play got underway. There was a lot of laughing.
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And a great deal of thinking.
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It seems like every time I went out to refresh the snacks, there was one shot taken…
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And then more thinking.
So much thinking…
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More often than not, the mild mannered 85 year old widower cleaned the table while the rest of the men continued thinking.
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He may be small, but every little bone in is body is competitive.
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No matter. Beer, chili and cornbread are great equalizers.
😉
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Well color me surprised. I never even knew these things existed..
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But now that I do? I really want to buy a set for our neighbor’s birds.
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I’m not exactly sure what purpose they serve… do chickens play football? Or crash motorcycles?
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Or as that picture suggests, go to war? Whatever the reason, a helmeted flock of chickens must be a wonderful sight to behold.
While researching this important topic I also came across this:
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Because every well dressed chicken needs a good hat.
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And if you think that’s ridiculous get a load of this-
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A helmet and T Rex arms might be a bridge too far..
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I came upon this article the other day and had to laugh.
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This is so Maine. And one of the many reasons I love my state.
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A police cruiser filled with chickens at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive through window?
Just another day in the great white north.
🤣
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We have a young Coopers hawk who enjoys using our backyard bird feeders as a training ground for hunting. He’s not very adept at capture yet, but he sure does give it the old college try.
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He also drives Lord Dudley Mountcatten completely insane. The poor feline is confused. It’s a bird, so he’s fascinated. But it’s a predator, so he’s scared.
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It’s only a matter of time before blood and feathers will be scattered on the ground.
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And while that’s hard to take….
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Hawks really are beautiful creatures.
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And deserve to eat just like the rest of us.
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As I said, my crazy calendar hasn’t been nearly crazy enough to suit me, but here are a few more tidbits from March.
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I see nothing wrong with this abnormality. Heck… it would saved me quite a few miserable nights when I was a foolish teenager who over indulged on T J Swan wine.
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Comparison of drawing to actual rabbit?
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They nailed the ears, but otherwise it looks like a bloated tick with whiskers.
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This is very true…. and if I could find my backyard video when I literally bumped into a skunk, I’d prove it. They really do look like little gymnasts when they’re pissed.
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Comparison of drawing to actual skunk?
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The tail is too small, the head is too big and we still have the bloated tick issue.
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While I enjoy a sweet treat as much as the next girl, and am seriously pro dessert…
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The word dump tends to take a little bloom off the rose for me.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten. He tries to hide, but isn’t very good at it.
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A very clever use of faucet handles to be sure. And now that I think about it, a spring flower that even my dastardly woodchucks couldn’t eat.
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Facebook. It’s annoying… but still the best way I know to keep up with old friends. And speaking of old, this was my FB memory from the other day. A photo of me and the hubs in the French Alps many moons ago. Yes, I was rock climbing in flip flops. Oh to be young and stupid again..
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For my friends of a certain age… did your mother ever force feed you castor oil? If so, be glad it was only a tablespoon and you weren’t on Mussolini’s bad side.
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Next up … a little story on something you should never do to increase sexual pleasure.
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Ouch! Not to mention eww.
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I knew that bitch had military experience! We’re doomed.
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You have to wonder what kind of little boy or girl fantasized about owning a company that specializes in these products. “What do you want to be when you grow up Susie/Sammy?” “A butt paste and douche distributor mommy. It will be so much fun!”
😳
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Shopping trips with girlfriends are always fun. We shop, we laugh, we drink, we shop, we laugh, we post pictures of stupid things we see on social media.
Like this sign I saw at the Salvation Army thrift store.
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Um…. it’s a thrift store.
Isn’t everything unwanted?
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Pinkfang. Because nothing says Easter like a row of razor sharp shark teeth.
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This. In case your toilet bowl needs to see a little more action.
Moving on, I saw the next horror at T.J.Max.
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Giant wicker pineapples. (There’s a woman walking by on the top left for scale.) And if the mere existence of these things isn’t stupid enough?
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Because you know someone, somewhere had to do it for there be a prohibitive sign.
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Yes, stupid headlines are back. There are so damn many, I have to share…
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While it’s true I don’t have any children, I have often felt the need to turn a hose on one. *Note to self – inquire about teacher’s assistant positions in Kentucky *
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Oh FFS. Are we such delicate creatures that we can’t stand the full force of carbonated bubbles now? I fear for humanity, I really do.
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I’m not a sportswoman. Hell, my idea of exercise these days is bending over to scoop out the litter box… but if the breakfast of champions is beer? I may have to rethink my aversion to physical activity.
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River's world..... 