Do not freak out!

Way back in my twenties, you know, well before dirt, I went through this phase when sometimes, as I was driving with my first husband as my passenger, I would have an almost overpowering compulsion to veer into the concrete medians on the left-hand side of the freeways. And crash the car. You know, just to see what would happen.

I once asked him if he had these thoughts. Umm, no. Apparently sane people don't have these thoughts. Who knew? After he freaked out, I never mentioned it again. I was learning about boundaries then.

I don't think it was just the Atlanta traffic that put me in the mood, as awful as it was.

I have recently learned some disturbing news about my mom, and her desire, way back when I was about eight years old, to make an auto-driven getaway from life.

Damn that thick blood. Guess I came by my strange thoughts honestly.

She at last achieved her release, nine years later, with no cars involved.

So many new twists to this horrible story.

I will never actively act to end my life, but…but what? The possibility to do such is just a neuron's synapse away.

Yeah. We be Bad.

Flash Flood Warning

I have nothing, or rather, very little.

I have drank just a wee bit much lately, (really?) and then commenced to Drunk Facebook, which, in some ways, is much better than Drunk Dialing, but still. My inhibitions get thrown out the window and my nontheistic, my non-tolerant self, gets pulled to the forefront and I end up starting groups and replying to offensive posts in offensive ways. Then I wake up the next day and worry that I have pissed off dear friends and new friends.

I delete what I can.

I don't want to piss off people, but even my sober self gets tired of the rampant christianity that is out there. And the fact that they don't worry, or care, about mysensibilities at all. Sigh. If my friends want to believe in invisible entities, should I sit by quietly when they ask for prayers, or worse, spend bandwidth praising Jesus? Should I just not read and delete? I don't know. I am normally not combative.

(for example:for ALL MY FRIENDS I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THANKS FOR ALL YOUR PRAYERS OUR SON DILLAN CRASHED HIS CAR EARLY THIS MORNING AROUND 430 ON WESTPORT ROAD. THE CAR IS A LOSS BUT GOD WAS WITH DILLAN AN NOW WE HAVE HIM HOME AFTER 6 HOURS IN THE ER HE IS OK JUST BRUISES AND A CUT ON HIS NECK THE AIR BAG AND SEAT BELT ALONG WITH JESUS PROTECTED HIM.)

Airbags and seatbelts and a good ER team are what worked. Hope he wasn't out drunk at 4:30 in the morning. I don't think Jesus really gives a crap.

Raining lots this weekend. Flooding everywhere. Livestock is drenched, but fine, and this is better than just-above zero temperatures most any day. Sweetie has made a second attempt to get into Louisville to work. Early today, all the roads around were flooded and he returned home to sleep a few more sweet hours. Haven't heard from him, so I am assuming all is well.

It's Magically Delicious!

Double rainbow in Lovely Laconia this past weekend.

See us on the internet.

I released the wild baby bunny yesterday afternoon, in spite of the rain. Once his eyes opened, he knew he was different from his adopted family, and usually sat apart from them. Somehow, he shimmied through the cage bars last week in a bid for freedom, only to be chased by Millie, who was in turn chased by Zander. It was pure luck, I think, that he ran at me in the kitchen instead of away from me, and I was able to capture him.

He did the same thing yesterday, and although I had hoped to keep him for just a little while longer until he was a bit bigger and more able to deal with the great outdoors, I decided it was time for us to part ways. I let him loose underneath the great forsythia bush out back, which is a good eight feet across. As safe a place as I could find.

I'll never see him again, but I am glad to have maybe helped him live a wee bit longer.

And today, I picked the third tick off of my body. I have not been anywhere but in my yard and walking the dogs, but still those little fuckers find me. I hate, yet admire, them. They are survivors. But I hate them.

The teenage pullets are thriving. Two are Barred Rock, one is a silver laced Wyandot, and one is an auracauna who will lay blue and green colored eggs. She is adorable, with cute little ear tufts. Still have two that I can't remember/don't know the breed. I'll figure them out once they are older.

Omelet and Henny Penny are fine. Baby follows mom all over the back yard, and I love to hear them communicate with their peeps and throaty hen noises. Henny is such a good mom. When the rain arrived yesterday, I was on my way home from an errand, and all I could think about was mama and baby. It was pouring when I got home, and I rushed out to the back yard enclosure where I found Henny, very wet, but protecting Omelet, who was bone dry. I put them into the coop and they rode out the bad weather in fine mettle.

Wash hands after using.

I love this.

Leningrad Cowboys - Leningrad