Took me way too long to get that one.
Tell me swampy is still under the weather, without telling me swampy is still under the weather.
The mental image is hilarious.
The hardest part, for a lot of people, is not throwing a mental temper tantrum about getting sent to bed early.
Same, and same.
The frozen crusts are IME utter crap. But the refrigerated ones made by a company that starts with “P” and rhymes with “Illsbury” got a thumbs up from the snooty Cook’s Illustrated folks, and that’s plenty good enough for me.
I’ve had homemade, and I’ve had ^^ and the only difference, to me, is the labor, both in the actual making, and the 
cleanup.
What’s the old adage? “Chickens always come home to roost.”
I’m sorry, this is gonna be harsh, but she created this problem, and now it’s falling into someone else’s lap to deal.
That sucks. For you, the designated lap.
You already know the answer. It’s right there ^^ and that IS the only sustainable solution.
They’re like kittens; I wanna take 'em ALL home!
(The jellyfish, especially.)
How’d the fundraiser go?
It’s nearly 2 p.m. I’m considering it.
I lived there, for seven glorious years. (Hook 'em! \nn/ ) I knew a long time ago that the bats would be one of the top things I’d miss.
Hell, I used to work at the Austin American-Statesman (best job I ever had) so I got to park in the employee lot to watch. Their employee car stickers had a bat - kept that sucker on my windshield for years after moving back to Dallas.
The “bat show” really is something. People absolutely coat the grassy banks near the river, so there’s lots of dogs, toddlers, etc. while everyone jostles for space.
Plenty of mosquitoes, too.
… for a while.
Once it gets close to dusk, everyone kinda quiets. Looking towards the river.
You’ll eventually see one. Maybe two. The brave ones (or extra hungry) scouting it out.
Then a few more.
Then it’s like a living river, absolutely pouring out from under the bridge.
It’s fascinating to try to focus on a single individual - picture rush-hour traffic on a 4-highway grid, but in 3 D - nobody ever hits another, but damn they come close.
I never understood the old nature documentaries about zebra and wildabeest (“There are so many, it’s difficult for predators to track individual prey…”) until I watched the bats. It really is challenging.
Late summer is best - the pups have started to fly, so the “river” doubles in population.
Yeah. They stinky.
But that was a good description of the daytime sound. The area under the bridge is redolent, but the auditory outweighs the olfactory, for me.
High pitched, you can barely hear it … but when several thousand individuals are making the same (to us) sound, trust me, it registers.
Absolutely credit where credit is due. I can picture the fierce stare now!
That is just a giant ball of suckitude, and also, one of my biggest fears.
Oh, give the ol’ guy a call. It’ll give him some break in the sucky routine of his life.
Four hours. Just like me.
The solution is NOT caffeinating. Go pee (that is why you woke up, isn’t it?) and have a snack, smoke - oh, right, not you, that’s me - and then toddle on back to bed.
The ocean will still be there when you wake back up again.
We’ve been fine. FINE! But { sniff } you never called, we’ve been so worried !
(Sorry, that was my mother poking into the chat. I called her last week on Wednesday, I think, and she was all, “You didn’t call Monday!” - my usual day off - and I had to explain, yet again, that telephones are a 2-way technology.
“I wanted to talk to you!”
“So why the fuck didn’t you call? Or better, text?”)
Damn. And here I was, waitin’ for a good story.
(I am genuinely, truly, sorry for whatever it is that happened. I joke, as my coping mechanism for awkwardness.)
Sometimes, when I think there’s no hope for humanity anymore …
Netflix: “Are you still watching?”
I always think of that screen as a little kid poking a dead critter with a stick.
“Hey. You dead yet?”
That must be AMAZE-BALLS.
I can’t even imagine how that must feel.
I saw a video of a woman listening to her dead son’s heart beating in the donor girl’s body, and even my shriveled soul teared up.
I’ve seen pictures of nightjars, are they the same?
Weird lookin’ things.
I’d love to see one in person.
Coupla weeks ago, a customer pulled up to my drive-thru window who I swear was thirteen.
{ tilts head sideways, confused expression on face }
This is now the acceptable term. Thus I have written, and thus shall it be.
One of my few bucket list items is to see one of the big fruit bats in person.
Preferably, to hold it and snuggle it, and then try to steal it for my very own.
Okay, not the last part - my brain is too pragmatic to even let me enjoy my own silly fantasies!
But to experience one hanging off my forearm, even for a moment .. ? I could die happy.
That, and seeing the aurora borealis (“Northern Lights”) in person.
My late beloved Other Shoe had a pickup. He’s been dead ten years, and I could still hear him laughing at your post.
Swap “high rise cityscape” for “desert” and you have Austin.
Very good description. “Swirling tornado.” Apt.
Me, too!
(My way is easier: close eyes, go to other room.)
Also, I don’t cook as much as I used to - it’s amazing how much more cooking and cleaning I did while living with men.
This is why God gave us nail polish. Hell, screw boring red .. go sparkly lavender for the knob dials!
Put up a welcome wagon for barn owls. Sweet heart-shaped faces; talons primed for pigeon murder.