Monday, August 31, 2015

In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche...

"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger."
I love sugar, and I especially love it in the guise of a cake.
I recently bought a big, cheap, bundt cake at the grocery store and, as the epitome of moderation, was only eating 1/5 of the cake per day, shortly after breakfast (I like my rituals).  On the 5th day I divided the large remaining portion in two (so that it would fit on my dainty dessert plate) and scarfed  down Part 1 in a matter of seconds.  When I went back to the kitchen to plate Part 2, a ray of bright morning sun revealed that the whole slice was coated in a layer of mold.
Yes.
I stared into space, thinking about all the mold I had just eaten.
Had I been eating and efficiently processing mold for a few days or was I minutes away from a trip to the ER?  Should I take a Benadryl?
I opted to drink a large vegetable smoothie with a medicinal shot of vodka.
Days later, I live to write about it.  Bring on the clearance  baked goods!

I lament the passing of a warrior.
My dad bought this garden cart for me at least 15 years ago.
Every time it cracked, I cobbled it together with mending plates and deck screws and I used the heck out of it but this weekend it hauled its last 250 lb. load of gravel.  The back wheel section broke off and yes, I tried to use it like a wheelbarrow, but I finally conceded it's time for a new garden cart.

Spread your wings but DON'T FLY.
My baby chicks are now teenagers.  
They've been introduced to the flock and taken up residence in the hen house.
Three of the babies are little bantams and I'd read that bantams are fliers.  It's far safer for my chickens to stay in my backyard so I enlisted the aid of a friend to teach me how to clip their wings.
That was nerve wracking!
The feathers in the photo are just from 1 chicken and he said we did a very conservative clip.
I'm a nervous pet owner because the chickens were fairly calm during the process.
I learned that if you cut the wrong feather, they could potentially bleed to death but all you have to do, if that happens, is take needle nose pliers and pull the bleeding feather out by the root; kind of like plucking a REALLY big, bloody eyebrow.
OR, when it's time to clip wings again, I'll trade him another haircut for the service.
(sigh of relief)
Here they are...
...safe and sound and easily able to roost, even with a diminished feather count.

Random photo of the frogs who live in my wind chimes.
They are always there, in the same location.  I don't know if the bugs come to them, or if they leave their bamboo apartments at night and hunt.  Guess I'll be out there with the flashlight tonight.

Let's end on a vaguely creepy note,
just for fun.
I find this label unsettling.
Can't put my finger on  exactly why...




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