“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’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” ~ L.M. Montgomery, from Anne of Green Gables

Arthur Dove Sunrise, Northport Harbor 1924
“Sunrise, Northport Harbor” (1924)
by Arthur Dove

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.” ~ Neil deGrasse Tyson

Saturday evening. Wonderfully cool, 50’s. At last.

Let’s try this again, shall we?

I’ve been down for the count for more days than I care to remember. My doctor’s appointment on Thursday left me with an egg-sized lump on my neck where my pain doctor (the one I’ve been waiting for to reemerge for 7 months) gave me an occipital block in an attempt to alleviate this never-ending migraine.

It didn’t work. And one of the new medicines that he prescribed for me (migrinal) costs over $1,000. Sooo……..

Anyway, I’m feeble. Last night (this morning?) I couldn’t sleep; the last time I looked at the clock it was 6:20. Truly, can anything else go wrong at this point?

Feeble is the only way to describe it, and I feel really bad that this has happened while Corey is home, but at the same time, I’m so glad that he’s home because just feeding myself is a chore. At least he can play with the dogs and feed them while I lie in my darkened bedroom attempting to read and staying away from anything light-reflective.

I haven’t checked my e-mail or looked at my tumblr, and as for this blog? Not so much. So I thought that instead of running on about pain and agony, I’d try to post my poem, the one from September 28 that didn’t appear on several of your sites (as you’ve let me know), try to post it as a JPEG instead of as a PDF. Here’s hoping it works this time . . .

By the way, I don’t know what possessed me, but I submitted it to some journal. Honestly cannot remember which one. I guess that’s my tactic for avoiding rejection—submit and immediately forget. I made a few changes to that one, but here’s the original version:

Break

                   

Music by Fort Atlantic, “No One Will Know”

Friday leftovers for Friday the 13th . . .

of course I forgot to schedule this to post . . .

Finally, proof that I’ve been doing it right all along:

Best door sign ever.

Let’s all just take a moment to consider this . . . and what could possibly possess someone to invent this?

I don’t understand . . . do you eat your fingers?

Oh, that explains it:

Neil deGrasse Tyson corrects another late night host on space facts:

Um, one of each, please? (Side note: hussy was one of my mother’s favorite words; she applied it to women on television, as well as cats and dogs.)

Too stupid not to be true:

Literary insults:

terry pratchett
Small Gods by Terry Pratchett. Photograph: UK Celebrity/Alamy
coriolanus
Coriolanus by William Shakespeare. Photograph: Johan Persson
lucky jim
Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis. Photograph: AP

Oh, if only this could be a real thing:

So I sat there and did this in my head . . .