I have a homestead. Because it’s a verb that applies precisely in this context, it seemed logical to engage in homesteading. Don’t judge me. What people do on the privacy of their own property is their business. Continue reading
I was cold, stuck in the snow, and on a fools errand. I was in a Jack London story. You know what ties together all those guys who died in Jack London’s books? None were holding a long handled round pointed shovel. Losers! Continue reading
“This will train them to be super killer fox eating monster chickens!” Continue reading
Is it a bad sign that I recognized some of the names of her chickens? I don’t remember the names of people. Sometimes fine people. Upstanding, considerate, fully realized human beings with whom I’ve worked and socialized for years and I’ll forget their name. It’s not that I dislike them. I just…. well I’ve got no excuse. Continue reading
Discussions between Mrs. Curmudgeon and her friends happen on a wavelength I don’t generally hear. I expected to hear nothing and care less. There are certain phrases, however, which catch my attention. Continue reading
I haven’t posted much lately. Mother Nature is trying to kick my ass. I will post more when nature is less focused on reducing me and everyone in my house to a series of ice sculptures surrounded by a collapsed … Continue reading
