And I just don’t love anything! You can post pictures from pretty much any website, giving you the chance to record and remember great things that you see while browsing. It’s also nice because it saves the original link.
I’m gushing, I know, but this isn’t an info-mercial. I’ve been using it for 2 days. My enthusiasm will probably wane. But for now, it’s tip top. Is anyone reading this already on the site? If so, let me know. We can share style tips and pretty pictures all day long!
I’ve been trolling blogs for hours, looking for fun things to talk about. It’s been rough. So I’ve traded my wine for some Sleepy Time Tea, tuned into the Kennedy Center Honors, and plopped down at the kitchen counter. All I want to see are gorgeous pictures of wonderful things.
It’s been a slow day today. Making jam, cleaning barnyards, laundry. It’s been a rainy, now quasi-snowy, kind of day. The dogs are sick. Poor Bob Evans had inflamed eyes this morning. That’s gone, but he’s only sitting in his various crates right now. Auggie isn’t eating. And Wally is just Wally. Let’s hope everyone sleeps it off tonight!
Let me know if you have a great blog you subscribe to (current blogging excluded, of course!) Ught-oh, Ms. Kitty is staring at me with evil eyes – she either wants a treat, pets, or to shred my eyes out of my head. I believe it to be the first, but please, I could still use your prayers.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that Bob Evans would not eat them there;
The alpaca were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of orchard grass danced in their heads;
And Donnie in his Snuggie, and I in my mink, Had just settled down for a tall winter’s drink, When out on the pasture there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, On the corner of the bed my knee I did bash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen rain gave sight to mud covered fields below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature pony, and eight large llama (not deer!), With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than Bacon his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
“Now, Richard! Now, Hyacynth! Now, Onslow and Daisy! On, Patsy! On Edina! On, Saffy and Rose! To the top of the fence! To the top of the barn! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!” As finches in their cages do try and fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So up to the house-top the llamas they flew, With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a stomping, I heard on the roof , the pounding and pawing of each heavy hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Straight through a window St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his knee, And his clothes were all tarnished with glass shards and pee;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples how sunk! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a drunk! His droll little mouth was drawn up like in a smile, And the beard of his chin well it reached n’er a mile;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, With a ‘No Smoking’ sign hanging beside on the wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly, that hinted he had eaten too much at a deli. He was chubby and plump, a right heafty old elf, And I screamed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings then turned with a jerk;
And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, out the window he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a yell, And away they all flew like a bat out of hell. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”
Or someday it will be. For now, you can call me Andrew. Or The Llama Wrangler…perhaps even Cutie. But Master Gardener will have to wait. I start classes in February. I hope to learn something, like how to care for fruit trees. I’d also like to know about molds. And have the skills to identify trees. Oh, and it’d be great know something about soil composition. After this, I’ll be a regular gardener. A master in fact!
Maybe I’ll learn the skills to effectively sit down and negotiate with the groundhog that harasses my house and garden. Alternative Dispute Resolution seems to be the new thing these days. He’ll listen to reason. I’m pretty sure of it, although I’m no master.
I bought some seeds a few days ago, including blue corn eaten by the Hopi. I “Hopi” it’s delicious! I also have some advanced veggies, like specialty cucumbers, fancy watermelons, and herbs used to soothe headaches and add color to salads. I’m going to attempt to grow these myself. It’s not that hard, I guess. And it’s a lot cheaper. As a Master Shopper, I do know that!
Starting next year, pay attention to this blog! Well, actually, I guess keep reading, and in February, when classes start, all I learn I will share. Or at least most of it. (I still need to remain the master, young Grasshopper!)
Imagine locking yourself in a closet. It’s kind of not a good thing! I remember, when I was five, getting locked in a bathroom stall in a restaurant in London. Was there a space at the bottom to crawl out? Sure. But my parents has said not to touch the floor of a public bathroom. So I screamed until someone busted me out. For a second today, I thought about screaming.
But then again, no one was home. So, I had my 10 seconds of panic. But that’s all I gave myself. And then, like freakin’ Jackie Chan, I gave one swift kick to the door (with my muck boots on), and badda bing, the door was open. “All the ladies who independent…”
This really wasn’t much of a drama though. I had my phone with me and could have called a neighbor. And the door was only shut with a whimsy latch. Luckily, the light was on. I would have lived no matter what. But it’s good to feel like Chuck Norris sometimes. A smart, socially conscious and reasonable Chuck Norris.
Also today, while cleaning the chicken coop, I had a full two-hands full of the bottom of the barrel. Chicken crap, chicken dust, and gross straw. I went to throw it in the wheelbarrow as I had all the other handfuls of hay, when the wind hit, and it all flew back in my face. My mouth was open. I would have thrown-up in the past. Today, I took notice of the direction of the wind, and spit all the chicken “refuse” out of my mouth. “All the ladies who independent…”