Evenin’ Y’all! Today has been a good day. We deheathenated via teh intartoobz. Our new Bishop preached and presided and the music was good. Chikin got grilled, sallit got made, brownies got baked and then were consumed. OK, still brownies left cause we’re not gluttonous pigs. Well, most of the time we are not gluttonous pigs. 
That was followed by some quality cee-mint pond time. We came back inside, I gathered up all the trash and hauled the biiiiiiiiiiiiig trash can all the way down to the road for pickup tomorrow. Showers have been had and noshes have been noshed. Now chillage until beddy bye time. Tomorrow shall be mowage day as we are dangerously close to bein’ the worst lookin’ yahd in da hood.
Cookie sorry about your little pitcher thingy. Always sad to lose sump’n you’ve had for a long time.
Nitey Nite Y’all!
Oh, Chefguy a giant hug from way over here. These anniversaries SUCK and I’m sorry your pain day is tomorrow. We love you.
Whoever asked about getting attached to The Future Snake Lunches … it’s kinda like raising chickens knowing they’re future dinners. Rule Number One NO NAMES NOT EVEN NICKNAMES. They’re essentially livestock, not pets.
That said, I breed for temperament - some of my lines are getting to be little sweethearts - and I have found that I’m somewhat fond of my really asshole colonies, for the simple reason that it’s rather satisfying to toss in a truly mean one. Especially as you’re still sucking the blood off your fingertips.
Honestly? The friendliest lines don’t get fed off, at least not by me. Not anymore. They’re the ones I reach for when people want to buy a few pets for entertainment, or to breed lightly just for fun. (Soft-furred rat babies are especially stinkin’ cute.)
Well. With the exception that my bestest line also seems to like throwing me litters of ALL GODDAMN BOYS so occasionally I wind up with a bachelor tub of the prettiest, sweetest little snake food you ever done saw. Those usually get sold off wholesale as a group, so someone else - who isn’t attached - does the dirty deed.
…
I got the next coupla days off, so I stopped by Deh Stoh on my way home so I can hunker down before whatever craziness rears up tonight. Wally World had closed as a preemptive strike against looting during the riots or whatever, so Meijer - conveniently located directly across the street - was pretty much printing their own money today. I got cat food & toilet paper & a little booze & a whole chicken (plus some calming treats earlier at work that double as bribes for any marauding hordes) so I am all kinds of set.
It’s so cool right now (mid 50s! What?!? It’s already like mid 80s where I left) that I shall gladly turn on the oven for an hour or so of chicken roastification. I’m planning on a quiet evening in front of Netflix with the next rat tub I’m making - they take a couple hours apiece, but it’s pleasant, craft-y type of work I thoroughly enjoy - along with as much roast chicken skin as I can stuff into my gullet.
The only real dilemma: what shall I watch???!?
NEWS FLASH: Fanny packs are back in style! OK, that may not be news to you fashion mavens, but it was to me. My twenty-something daughter told me so this evening. Apparently music festival attendees needed something smallish, hands-free, and convenient to haul around their joints and money and stuff. Daughter says some of the packs are retro. I said I’m retro, so wearing one would merely make me look more senior citizen than I am. The subject came up when I said I have no pockets for dog treats, and when I go by the dog park with no yummies, there is much howling and whimpering and gnashing of teeth.
MetalMouse, I hope they don’t charge her with anything. It’s a sad day when someone trying to offer physical aid to those who need it is charged with a crime.
Cookie, sorry about the little pitcher. It’s tough to lose something that held so many memories, not to mention delicious syrup.
I made chili colorado this morning. We just had it for dinner.
He is probably lost, and severely messed up. I don’t know what happens to a salt water mammal spending a lot of time in fresh water, some sea creatures die because of the difference in osmotic pressure between marine and fresh water. I hope he finds his way back to the sea.
A species of shark, I do not recall which, is able to excrete the salt from it’s body and restore osmotic pressure. Mammals may not be affected by osmotic pressure. I wish him the best.
Just watched a 2-hr Lance Armstrong documentary (part II) on ESPN and still not sure how I feel about him. Then watched the next-to-last episode of Final Space, a rather eclectic SF-ish cartoon (season 3 is promised for the fall). Bedtime beckons, but a few last notes before tomorrow’s MMP.
flytrap, I too hope our cetacean friend survives; just something that surprises and enchants people in what has been a dreary year…
Purp, probably TMI, but interesting on the rats. Enjoy the rat tubbing…
nellie< I don’t think I’ve ever worn a fanny pack; have worn a money belt while travelling though.
doggio, ya done good, and they won’t hate you too long (you do have the treats on hand, don’t you??
swampy, I haven’t been in a swimmin’ pool in ages. IF the local one ever reopens…
OK, catch all y’all on the next MMP.