Enjoy Responsibly

Weird bunny stuff.

Removed some sort of tumor from Kelly Bob's back today. The growth appeared suddenly and I thought it was fly larva. The barn bunnies so not suffer from fly problems and I was puzzled. As I cleaned it, a pea sized part of the nasty thing broke off. Hey. Wait a minnitt... This ain't no larva! A snip with some very sharp scissors to a thin connective stem and it was gone. Some minor bleeding but the patient never seemed to feel a thing. Saved the fatty mass in a jar full alcohol - just in case. I've never seen anything like this.

At tonight's feeding, I saw that Big Sister (Brokeback Mama's older daughter) hadn't eaten her morning carrot. Not good. I examined her poop tray and it was full of poop. And blood. Sooo not good. I brought her inside for examination and placed her in a cage while I tried to find something on the interwebs. Fifteen minutes later, she was already gone. WTF? Her coat was not very good, so I didn't save the pelt, but the autopsy showed a pale interior. She'd bled to death and I don't know why.

That's two of the 6 bunnies I bought this spring dead. Not good!

Some bunnies take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. Poor ol' Anna Nicole for one, who suffered from a myriad of maladies yet still lived four placid years. There's Groovy who, in spite of wry neck since the winter, is still hippy hoppin' with a fine appetite and nice fur, too.

Other lapins seem to keel over with no notice. Fine, fine, fine. Dead. Candy. Hippy. Salty. RIP

Hello. Let us move on.

On a brighter note, went to the Friendship Spinners meeting Saturday at the Bernheim Arboretum. What a nice place and what a beautiful day it was! Mid-80s and breezy.



(As an aside, I'd like to comment on the good weather we've had this year. Here it is, August, and I am still having to mow each week. Everything is still green and growing. We've had enough rain all year long without temperature extremes.)

So. Lot's of folks were there. Here's Jean modeling the Meditation Shawl from her handspun. The pattern is a variation of Old Shale.



Jean, cut that out!!!



Blue Acorn brought her tapestry loom. She may have a little showing in New Orleans and is furiously working on several pieces. I want to see her knitted masks.



Last week I counted thirteen outside bunnies and here are four I found at Good Neighbor Nancy's place.

Rugged and Reliable

Some folks hate Lolcats!

Imagine that.

Drop Mail Here

I want you all to meet the marketing geenius and all around excellent person, Susan.

She has my stuff for sale. I am in love with her.

Please go there and buy. Heizen needs a new pair of shoes

Operators are Waiting to Take Your Money

How did I miss this? How did I miss Northern Exposure? Was it the same way I missed Twin Peaks and Picket Fences? Was it on Channel 3, the station that never comes in? Was I busy those nights?*

But due to the loving goodness of NetFlix, I have just watched the pilot and subsequent three episodes of Northern Exposure. Twice. I lurve John Corbin so much. At least his character as the uber-hipster. The guy who is so hip he doesn't even know how hip he is. The guy that looks like the young John Lennon. A guy I would kidnap and hold hostage because I love him so much. (I am so Lucy Butler.) I love Ed, too. And the Molly Ringwold-type chick. In a platonic way. And Joel the Jerk. And Hawling.(sp?) Yeah, he's nice.

I may just have to upgrade to the two, nay nay, to the three disc-at-a-time plan in order to see more of Cicely at one sitting.

Damn. I will have to wait for the back to heal because I want to knit something special during that marathon. Screw the Tour de Fleece. Screw the Knitting Olympics. Give me the Northern Exposure Knits and Purls! Fits and Hurls???

*Guess I was busy back in 1990. Working several jobs and being so totally clueless and miserable in a hateful marriage. (This was BS - Before Sweetie.) A so totally miserable time that it makes today's miserable seem like a walk in the park. Like, using dental instruments to clean out my sinuses compared to -- awww, I dropped my Blow Pop.

As for the TV show I worked on, from '91 to '93, I didn't even watch all of those episodes. Hmmmm. Wonder if NetFlix has I'll Fly Away?

Your Partner in Good Government

We be knitting, bad back and all.

I am able to do a little bit of work on Sweetie's winter blankie, every so often. It has grown to almost 4 square feet.



It definitely has a "right" side, although I am working in the ends as I knit, so the tidying up at the finish won't be onerous. Each color block is picked up from previous work and there was only the tiniest bit of sewing at the beginning as I was honing my technique.

Sweetie finally harangued persuaded me into visiting his Chamber of Ho work out room and arranged me on some instrument of tor what he called the Roman chair. It helped me to stretch my back muscles and spine and there was relief. I am also using the heating pad more and the medz less.

The medz give me Bad Dreams. Sad dreams. Make me weep dreams.

Thanks to the support from NancyNeverSwept - "Go on and wallow" and Nibbler, who apparently was arrested over the weekend, I am getting better.

I was sad that I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet. So I shot him. Now I feel better.

And now---Bunnies!



Oh, and this deserves its own post, but I am delighted that our apple tree and asian pear trees are drooping with bounty!

Restricted Access

I hate August.

Not that the month itself is bad, but the month itself makes me feel bad.

I am hot, in the bad way. Hush.

We are still a one-vehicle family. Sweetie passed on the Mercedes I wrote about, although now he has his eye on a larger and newer and cheaper one. The truck has been in the shade tree shop for about 2 months, getting its cracked manifold thing uncracked.

Even if I am agoraphobic and misanthropic, I like having at least the option of leaving the house after 2 pm.

My sacroiliac is still out of whack and the doctor medz make me woozy. It hurts to sit in my knitting chair. So I'm not even knitting. It hurts to bend or twist or reach. Sometimes it hurts to stand up or lay down. This happened to me several years ago, this sudden back outage. After about six weeks, the condition somehow righted itself. It's all about the waiting.

There are still four baby angoras and the two wildies in the house. Pooping everywhere. I just got out the lightweight vac to clean up, and did two rooms until the back told me to quit, already. Fuck.

Good Things.

Watched the movie Harold and Kumar in Guantonimo. I have to agree with what the New Yorker reviewer said, which was something like - The movie is totally sophmoric and stupid, yet innocent and likable. And funny. "Doogie Houser," aka Neal Patrick Harris, makes a return appearance at the most improbable moment.

Susan thinks that Fuzzarelly Fibers are Good Enough to Sell in her shop and on her website. She's the kick in the seat that I need to get back in the studio. Once the back rights itself, of course.

I have this little imaginary box in my brainsoul that I take out when I am feeling particularly miserable. Like now. Inside this box are memories of the awful things that people have said or done to me. Long ago hurts and slights. Engraved images of car wrecks, injured animals, angry faces. My own Little Box of Pain. I've been toying with this little box lately, peeking inside to see if the world still hates me.

It does.

But, cooler and pain free times are ahead and I can merely wait for them. In the end, I am an optimist and a survivor.

Refrigerate After Opening

Pop cultural fetishes on parade.