No refridgaration needed.

It was almost funny. I arrived home this afternoon with three new bunnies and the doors were unusually locked! At my house! I know, as if I lived in the city or something. Front doors and back doors, all.

My key? Inside the house.

I did what I usually do; broke in through the front window. Nothing broken, actually, but just a bit of work with a screwdriver.

Don't tell anybody about this trick, though.

And now ---CHICKENS!

Employment Opportunities

The 8th annual Blogger Boobie-Thon will be October 1-7, which is only a week away! October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and the Boobie-Thon kicks it off in with a bang. Bloggers from all over send in picture of their boobs (and you can submit yours now). Then during the Boobie-Thon, everyone is invited to look at them! The dressed breasts will be on the front page, and for $50, you can see bare blogger boobs. Of course, the money is important, as it goes to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, with the exception of $359 which goes to a blogger in need. If it’s not worth $50 to save lives, maybe it will be worth that much to see your favorite blogger’s boobs in the buff. Of course, if you are so inspired, you can send in a smaller -or larger- amount. So take a picture of your breasts, and remember your face won’t be shown, so you can be as free or creative as you like, send it in and tell everyone about the Boobiethon!

Valid through September 20

Those little Killer Dogs? Not run over in the street, after all. They were taken in by one of our local Rescue Rangers, which means they will be fed, neutered, and adopted out to good homes.

Roostie? He is fine and as cocky as ever. heh heh

The red hens keep layin'. The egg on the right is a huge double yolker.



Autumn is here, all of a sudden it seems. So unexpectedly, it gets dark early of an evening. The daylight hours and the dark hours are almost even. I always look forward to fall, because it means that the worst of summer is over. Summer, with its heat, humidity (it's not the heat, it's the stupidity,) and mosquitos.

For photos, go here.

For recreational use only.

I have been knitting, if only little bit and sporadically. The shawl reincarnation slowly grows, with fewer mistakes since a large-area chart was printed. (Re-intarnation is when one returns as a hillbilly, by the way.)

On the aborted vacation, I cast on a pair of plain socks out of the pinkish sea cel/merino (at least I think that is what it's made from, as I have chronic CRS.) The socks also grow slowly.

Eeyore and Roostie have both recovered. I released Eeyore from his cage in the back yard yesterday, since the chickens only seem to go there at night anymore, and he promptly attacked Heizen. Sigh. Back in the cage, bubba, if you can't play nice.

I lost a barn bunny whilst I was at the Brothers'. It was Kelly Bob, the one with the tumor that I had excised three different times. I knew she was ailing, and was not surprised. I think her highly inbred line was more the cause than anything else. All the others are fine.

The Southern Indiana FiberArts Festival is coming up shortly and this will be the FIFTH year! If you are anywhere in the region, try to make plans and visit, because it has grown into a two day event with 65+ vendors, music, animals, classes, demos, and all the usual fibery goodness that we have come to expect. Victoria and her minions have done a superb job on this event, always.

Fuzzarelly will be there, too.

Immensely Satisfying

Back again, this time from the wilds of the north. Northern Indiana and Ohio, that is.

One of the more interesting events was attending a dance with second eldest brother. Now, where said brother learned to dance so well, I can not say. All I know is that he always has been able to swivel those hips and slide those feets, even on roller skates.

So, he takes me to a dance but didn't tell me that it was a SINGLES dance. Rat Bastard.

Here we are, just before leaving. Like that lamp growing out of my head?



It was a fairly large gathering in Angola, Indiana at the American Legion hall. We arrived early, and I was able to observe, as if I were an anthropologist visiting the natives of some scandinavian village, a line dancing class. At first, I was amused - I mean, what is it about moving in unison that white people like so much........

Wait a minute, I thought, it's the same reason that I loved marching band - to be a part of a larger whole, a community. Also? It was fun. Dorky? No doubt, but fun. And these people, the serious-faced, the smiling, the beginners, the agile, and the flat-footed were having fun being part of a group. Without being laughed at.

As I sat there, I compared it to folk dancing in Europe in the last century, and to ballroom dancing in the 19th century. One learned the moves in order to participate, and one moved just like every one else, in unison. The more in unison, the better. One danced to be social, to celebrate, to mingle and meet, to maybe get a chance to get close to that handsome man or beautiful woman.

So, I danced, too. Not line dancing, because I am retarded and can't follow direction, but I slow danced several times and again, my inner anthropologist kicked in and I became an observer. One fellow had come from Akron, Ohio (!) (apparently not uncommon,) and was a little socially awkward. I asked him what he did, and discovered that was a data programmer. Ahh, I diagnosed, Asperger's syndrome. Over the evening, he must have danced with twenty different partners, so good for him, I thought.

Then there was something akin to The Grand March, in which the women lined up along one side of the room, and the men along the other, and the head of each line then met and danced in the middle, down to the tail of the line. It was considered poor form to step out of line if one did not care for one's upcoming partner. I found it to be a lot of fun and, if one were actually single, a great way to meet people.

My brother was extremely popular, and I found him to be more gracious than I could ever have imagined, as he danced with so many different women - the good, the bad, the plain, and the pretty.

The Gift That Lasts

I am at my eldest brother's house in way north Indiana. The weather is beautiful and it smells like the first whiff of autumn in the air.

Yesterday, I visited an old high school friend in Huntington, and drove by my old high school, home of the Fighting Vikings. I was class of '75. So very long ago.

Tonight, I have a date with second eldest brother to go the the American Legion. Living on the edge. Tomorrow, it is Ohio to see little brother, who is almost 42, so really not so little, and then home on Monday.

A Full Family Weekend!

Please Pay This Amount

The neighborhood girls.



Sweetie and James confront the van.



Architecture in Springfield, MO






Leaving St. Louis