Wordless Wednesdays: Baby llamas not judging you . . .

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If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday evening, sunny, and 58 degrees.

No walk today. Became obsessed with trying to find something I’d seen before online but couldn’t remember the exact name or where I first saw it. So . . .  many hours later, it was already 5 p.m.

Enjoy.


Dorothy and Golden Girls forever:

So, who’s been spying on me?

I’m not ashamed to admit that I really miss “Rugrats.”  I think that I liked it more than my sons did:

And this is why I no longer allow myself to enter a T.J. Maxx:

And finally:

Clarion-Ledger, Jackson, Mississippi, December 14, 1937

“Perhaps we’ve never been visited by aliens because they have looked upon Earth and decided there’s no sign of intelligent life.” ~ Neil deGrasse Tyson, astrophysicist and all around truth teller

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday afternoon, clouds and rain, 52 degrees.

Sorry no post yesterday. One of the horses, Petra, was very sick. According to Dallas, sometimes horses get sick from eating too much green grass too quickly. Anyway, he picked her up in the horse trailer and worked with her, giving her electrolytes, and some concoction for constipation. Corey went back over last night to double check on her and make sure that Dallas hadn’t just shut her up in the barn. Fortunately, he was pleasantly surprised as Dallas was genuinely taking care of her.

I won’t even get into details on the last thing he did when one of his horses died, but suffice it to say that had I been present, I might have beat him with his cane . . .

Anyway, while he was here, Dallas also loaded up Amy, Boots, and Franklin. He had said that he wanted to separate Franklin from any of the mares that might be going into heat, which is fine, but I still don’t know why he took Amy or Boots. He assured Corey that he’d return Boots and Petra. At least he knows not to touch Napoleon.

More later Peace.


We should all strive to be the people our dogs imagine us to be. Just saying . . .

I can actually see something like this happening . . .

I don’t know if this one is true, but it’s what I imagine I’d do if ever I was forced to be a greeter . . .

What the hell are people learning in school lately? Anything? Anything? Bueller? Bueller?

Is it sad that I can relate to this kid?

Me, at the end of “Orphan Black,” or “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” or the upcoming final season of “Game of Thrones.”
And finally, I will always, always, post Nurse Rat-chit:

Music by Phantogram, “Black Out Days”

 

“I swing on a continuum between ridiculous and sublime.” ~ Amit K. Ghosh

 
If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday afternoon, more rain, 47 degrees.

I really think that it doesn’t rain nearly enough around here . . . not. The only good thing about all of the rain here is listening to it at night as it falls on the tin roof.

Anyway, sorry no post yesterday. I could think of nothing to say. Corey spent the day in bed as it’s his turn to be sick. Honestly, I wonder how long we’ll swap this bug, whatever it is. He’s better today, but he was also better earlier in the week, so who knows . . .

I’m fairly certain that the header quote is a take on Marshall McLuhan’s quote, “All through his life, he swung between the ridiculous and the sublime,” which comes from his famous 1964 book, The Medium is the Message.

(Just an aside here: I cannot believe how many people online think that the word is massage, not message . . . We really need to go back to spelling tests in grade school.)

Pretty good collection today, so enjoy.

More later. Peace.


Michigan ghost apples caused by extremely cold temperatures (found here):

Yep.

Also yep:

The Baltimore Sun, Maryland, February 8, 1932

This reminded me of how my old dogs used to try to get on the hammock with me . . .

Completely logical:

From This Isn’t Happiness:

I used to love this show:

And finally:

“Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.” ~ Aldous Huxley, from Complete Essays 2, 1926-29

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday afternoon, overcast and drizzle once again, 54 degrees.

Don’t even get me started on the presidential faux state of emergency.

During the night when I opened the door to let the dogs out, I was hit in the face with the smell of impending spring, which is miraculous considering we have horses and the accompanying smell of equine eau du poo. It almost made the sleeplessness worth it. Almost.

I began a post on Monday, picked it up again yesterday, and still haven’t finished it. So . . . should I finish or scrap it and start over? Thoughts, opinions, ideas?

Anyway, enjoy today’s collection.


I want a red hat that says this:

Seen in the window at Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick, Maine. Photo: Bill Roorbach

I want a baby elephant . . .

Why all of the reminders about my age?

The entire automotive industry was against seat belts at one time. Now, they spend all of their time trying to out do one another with more and more safety features. Go figure . . .

I cannot even begin to list the number of times this happened to me when I had to get up for work . . .

I love this one:

Sounds about right:

And finally this:


Music by Cardboard Kids, “Echo Boomer”

“It is complete balderdash. It is an inverted pyramid of piffle. It is all completely untrue and ludicrous conjecture. I am amazed people can write this drivel.” ~ Boris Johnson, British politician and journalist

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

I thought that I had scheduled this, but . . . apparently not . . .


Sometimes, I really miss the Simpsons (I know that they’re still on. I just stopped watching years ago):

Myrmecomorphy:

I can relate:

This fact is actually quite sad:

Wow. Deep philosophy for a newspaper:

The Windsor Star, Ontario, June 7, 1929

But look at Jeremy Irons’s arms . . .

Data was always my favorite:

“I chose cultural anthropology, since it offered the greatest opportunity to write high-minded balderdash.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut, from Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage

If it’s Friday, it must mean leftovers . . .

Friday evening, slightly warmer temperatures, 36 degrees.

A little late in getting this post up. Corey has so generously shared his cold with me. He’s getting better, and I, if things go true to form, seem to be on my way to bronchitis. The only good thing is that I actually have a doctor’s appointment next week, just for a check-in, but if my chest goes the way it tends to go, I should be good and wheezy by the time I get to my appointment.

No. I’m not willing it into existence, but seriously . . . I know my body’s response by now. As I sit here in my pajamas trying to will enough energy to bathe, sweat is running down my brow, and it’s not because it’s hot in here.

Just a few minutes ago, I poured my ginger tea into my soda water glass instead of the tea cup, and it took me a minute to realize what was wrong. It’s pathetic, actually. Thank god I don’t need to interact with real people.

I mean really . . . it would just be embarrassing. Anyway, I like my collection for today. I hope you enjoy.

More later. Peace.


I love this. I wonder if Corey would notice if I started flapping a handkerchief at him:

The Mystery of Love, Courtship and Marriage Explained, Henry J. Wehman, 1890

But I love this more:

The Highland Weekly News, Hillsboro, Ohio, March 4, 1875

I never did solve mine:

This is kind of like the guy who invented soft serve ice cream by mistake when the ice cream in his truck began to melt:

And then there’s this accident:

I have a real abhorrence of canned vegetables, except for corn. Weird, huh?

This is too true:

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry:

I told you dogs were better than people:

This is too cool: