Categories: Family

Population Explosion

Categories: Family
Comments: 2 Comments
Published on: May 13, 2009

So lambikins is doing well, although we still haven’t named her. She’s a maniac, jumping all over the other sheep, racing about and tripping over her feet. Still no second lamb yet, though.

In the meantime, chicks have started hatching, so now we’ve got more barnyard babies running around. Okay, not exactly running, as they spend most of their time tucked under their mom’s wings. If I were less lazy, I’d provide pics. Too bad. Two of them hatched on their own, the third I had to break out of its egg after it had given up. The girl-child named the third one Lucky. With our luck, it will be a boy and she will have to rename it Dinner.

Out of 22 eggs, we’ve had three hatch so far. I plan on building an incubator for next year, as this doesn’t sound like the best hatch rate. That, and the few we’ve had to remove because they’ve definitely been bad have caused the coop to smell a bit too ripe. My gag reflex can’t take much more.


The Miracle Of Birth

Categories: Family, Photography, Whatever
Tags: No Tags
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: April 30, 2009
Makes me nauseous. I am so glad I am not a mama-sheep, hungrily slurping off the afterbirth.

lick me

Whatsitsname just born

Cute little bugger, but I am squeamish. Stepping back and giving them some bonding-time is in order.

lamb and mom

Okay, let's step back and avoid the ickies.

And there we have it, a clean lamb. So what am I supposed to do now? Look under the tail and see if we’ve got a boy or girl? Or can I go fire up the barbeque?

dreaming of lambburgers

There, all clean. So tasty . . .

It’s been busy around here lately, which explains why the poor piggies have been neglected, photo-wise. Just in time for the swine flu outbreak, the girl-child’s 4-H group sent home piglets Monday evening.

piglet eating bucket
MMM…this bucket tastes like bacon!!!

Our two have been behaving just like teenagers: Sleeping until noon, eating just to the point of bursting, making a mess of their house and eating the occasional turd. Oh, and a lot of sunbathing in the nude. They’ve doubled in size over the past three days.

Future bacon
Does this snout make me look fat?

Gut Feelings

Categories: Family, Photography, Whatever
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: April 15, 2009

Due to popular demand, here are the floofy broon ships. Or fluffy brown sheep, when I’m not trying and failing miserably at a Scottish brogue. So, first the entire herd, in their knee-high glory. I took the pics this morning, and nobody wanted to stand still, so they are all a bit blurry.

The Whole Gang

The Whole Gang

Leading the herd is Monica (preggers), who is the old gal at two. She is the friendliest of the bunch, willing to come up and sniff your fingers in the hopes of finding something tasty. Considering she is a sheep, tasty is pretty bland.

Dirty Monica

Dirty Monica

In the middle is Cimmaron, a sprightly (and, of course, knocked-up) one-year-old. She already lost her winter coat, so she looks much smaller than the others. She is also the most skittish of the bunch, usually staying in between the other two. Maybe she realizes I’ve been thinking of how good her lambs are going to taste as barbeque . . .

Cimmaron

Cimmaron

Following behind is Mister Studly, aka Luxor. He thinks he’s so cool. If he ever gets brave enough to butt me, I’m drop-kicking him over the fence.

Mr. Macho

Mr. Macho

So, that’s the herd. The lambs are due sometime between May 1 and June 30. Should be fun. In the meantime, I am following my gut instinct and reducing my mochas from six shots to four. It’s nice to finally have decent espresso at home, but the hole in burning through my stomach lining is somewhat unpleasant. Yeah, I know that has nothing to do with sheep. :P


Gimme a bucket!

Categories: Family
Tags: , ,
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: April 12, 2009

We’ve got sheep! And a tummy-ache. More tomorrow, if I don’t die of bloat first. Stupid eating holiday.


Dog Zapper

Categories: Family
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: April 6, 2009

Shocking. Electrifying. No f****ing fair. We put up an electric fence in our back yard this weekend. “Why?” you ask? Because our dogs eat trees. And roses. And Yucca. And rocks. And pretty much anything they can get their mouths around (we’ve already discussed the dog turds, so no reason to bring that up again, right?). When we moved in, this house had a beautiful back yard: The lawn was perfectly manicured, the edges bordered with Arborvitae and roses. Horribly annoying red lava rocks were strewn ornamentally. We had privacy for naked swim night. We had somewhere relaxing to spend a warm evening.

That lasted less than a year. Lava rocks are sentient, or at least mobile and evil. They wake in the night and crawl onto walkways in small groups. They hide in the grass, waiting for the mower. They spill over onto the driveway and creep into the garage. Also mobile and evil? Our shrubbery-loving dogs. We started with one, old and slow and not much into destruction. Thanks to kind hearts and little common sense, we now have five, of which three love destruction. Duke, the Golden Retarded, will strip an Arborvitae of branches in an afternoon. Hiro and Bailey, lab and schnoodle respectively, fill in by shredding yuccas and anything non-tree. Our once-beautiful yard is now a rock-strewn, stick-filled wasteland. The lawn, where it isn’t filled with holes or questionably squishy, is infested with fairy-rings. Our shrubbery looks like we’ve been hit by acid rain. Or perverse beavers. No more, though. Judging by the decreasing frequency of yelps, it sounds like the dogs are learning. Soon our trees and plants should be able to grow again. We can re-plant our grapes and red yucca. Maybe even put the rocks back out by the pond. Today is a good day to be a tree in our yard.


Financial Genius

Categories: Family, Whatever
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: April 2, 2009

The stock market is ticking up again. You can thank me with cash or chocolate, your choice. Yes, it was me and my decision to buy a new printer and espresso machine, bouying up the market. Send cash now, and I will get a new computer and really get this whole stock market thingie cranked up. Okay, maybe that G20 deal had something to do with it, but mostly it was me.

So Spring has been a wash this year. The First Robin of Spring was in the back yard the other day, perched in the walnut tree with the Second through Fifteenth Robin of Spring and an assorted collection of Starlings of the Apocalypse. They looked hopeful, but mainly pissed that it was snowing again. In a day or two, when the snow melts, I am sure I will find a few of them frozen to the ground. Maybe you should have waited for the ground to thaw a bit before going after worms, silly!

I do need a new computer, though. Once again, my highly static nature has wiped out a machine. The sad beeps at startup tell me it is the memory. I’ve tested the memory, however, and it all works, just no longer in that computer. I can use one memory chip at a time as well. So it is actually the motherboard. Sigh . . . I am off to the computer graveyard in the back shop with yet another computer corpse.


Wonder Bras and Tiny Donuts

Categories: Family, Rants, Whatever
Comments: 1 Comment
Published on: March 28, 2009
The Aaron Dragoon

The Aaron Dragoon

The Daring Dragoon has been festooning the dead Christmas trees in my front yard with toilet paper. I may have to toss out an old refrigerator or a couple of Trans-Ams on cinder blocks to make his path more crowded and harder to navigate while prancing around in a red cape and black paper mask if he does not stop soon. I blame hulu.com for this. I also blame hulu for my nine year old son announcing that he is “thankful for the Wonder Bra, miniskirts and those little donuts that you get 12 for a dollar.”

Unfortunately for me, changes in hulu’s streaming may soon put an end to embarrassing quotes from the boy-child. After lulling me in with more television shows and movies than I could possibly watch in a lifetime, hulu switched to encrypted streams. Not a big deal to people with high speed Internet connections, I suppose, but for those of us in the hinterlands connecting via a slow as crap (no, not talking a ferret with diarrhea here, more like a constipated rhino) WISP, it is an ugly change.

Prior to this, I could use Jaksta to record my streams, an online Tivo, as it were. I could then play them back while wandering on my treadmill, or on my television via my handy Western Digital WD TV device. Unfortunately, Jaksta cannot get me the encrypted (rtmpe) streams, and is not smart enough to pull down the rtmp equivalent.

Now it is back to straight streaming. And buffering. And buffering. And buffering. A 30 minute tv show often takes an hour or more. Happy days, the Jaksta/WDTV marriage. But now it is gone. I can tolerate sitting through commercials (or wandering off to pee in the sink or whatever it is you are supposed to do during the breaks). I cannot tolerate five minute frozen screens and 15 second commercial breaks that run for several minutes as the buffer slowly fills. So, no more Damages, no more Eureka and no more Buffy. I has a sad. Damn you, hulu!


A Little Perspective

Categories: Family
Comments: 1 Comment
Published on: December 29, 2008

Let’s get this started properly, shall we? First, a Porn Orchard homage to Tom Waits and Peter Murphy. There, I feel better now.

I’ve been away a while, as one or two of you may have noticed. And if you didn’t, then in the spirit of the season, fuck off and die. Oh, it’s going to be one of THOSE mornings, is it? Yes, it is. So, Christmas came early this year, wandering in the day before Thanksgiving, covered in vomit and false cheer. We cleaned it up the best we could and put it to bed with a warm fire and a glass of hot cider. It was dead by morning and the cider had spilled all over the wife’s favorite comforter. The holidays are no longer welcome here.

Why so quiet the past month? Well, as in the adorable holiday tale above, we did have visitors the day before Thanksgiving. One of Jennie’s many sisters stopped by for an unexpected holiday surprise and ended up staying through Christmas. Her husband’s penis tripped and fell into another woman, possibly for years, which apparently wasn’t an approved part of their marriage. So, he sent his wife and daughter away and we ended up with a matching set of emotional wrecks for the season. It’s been an eventful month, and I am glad to see it gone. Now if only someone would shovel away the four feet or so of snow that blocks my basement window so I can watch the car crashes, I would be a happy man.

Ooh! Speaking of car crashes, we got to see a complete moron (CM) try to remove himself from the gene pool. Unfortunately, no semis were heading the opposite direction, so it was a futile attempt. As some of you know, it’s a bit stormy this time of year. Around here, that means we’ve had several feet of snow and the roads are ice slicks. We were out later than we wanted to be the other night, helping the aforementioned sister-in-law get her washer hooked up properly, and had to head home after dark. Silly me decided to go 30 in a 45 zone when I should have been doing 25. In my defense, everyone else (except CM) was also driving 30. CM, however, in a shiny red coupe and going almost twice the speed of the rest of us, decided to pass me on the right, then whip back into my lane to avoid crashing into the car in front of him. Did I mention that the roads were very icy and that there was snow everywhere? Good. So, for those of you raised by chimpanzees and unaware of such subtleties, driving on ice and driving on dry pavement are two different experiences. On dry pavement, whipping in and out of traffic isn’t that big a deal, although it does tend to piss off the other drivers that you are constantly tailgating and cutting off. On icy/snowy pavement, you tend to fishtail around a bit, which only gets worse if you also slam on your brakes. Eventually, you end up spinning circles as you slide uncontrollably into oncoming traffic. Fortunately, said oncoming traffic was sparse enough and far enough back that CM avoided being hit. I managed to avoid braking and fishtailing, and was quite glad CM ended up in the opposite lane rather than in front of me, as I would have broadsided him. The once polite former Mormon sitting next to me turned and screamed obscenities at the dazed CM as we drove past. I just breathed deeply and let the adrenaline fade. The kids in the back cowered, wondering who exactly their mother was swearing at and how long until they could start using that language.

So how was your winter holiday season?


Half A Person

Categories: Family
Comments: 1 Comment
Published on: November 17, 2008

Quiet desperation beats vocal frustration any day in my book. My book is rather thin at the moment, however, so your mileage may vary. Which is why I recommend properly inflated tires. And a hat. I should still be working, but I am waiting for the din above me to quiet. The boy-child is screaming in terror or pain, the girl-child screaming in rage. Stomping, pounding footsteps, bits of my calm slipping away in the swirl of angry emotions. Now would be a good time for a yell. Instead I sit in silence and try to count to three. Maybe it’s time for a beer break?

Jesus Carp on a crapsicle, I need to clean my office. I thought I’d get to it this weekend. Instead, I did something else. I’m not sure what at this point. Stayed up too late. Went out on the wrong night (yes, there is a wrong night and a right night for weekends in Spokane. Apparently the second-largest city in Washington can only afford decent night-life on Fridays). Didn’t finish putting up barbeque stuff. The screaming is done; the only sound now the tinny sound of Journey being played on the boy-child’s mp3 speakers. How sad that the modern-day ghetto-blaster is only four inches across. Sadder still is that it probably sounds better than anything back in my day. Fuck, that sounds like an old person comment, doesn’t it? Oh well — tomorrow I can spend the afternoon yelling at squirrels.


Red Rock

Categories: Family, Photography
Comments: Comments Off
Published on: November 7, 2008

Crow flying over Red Rock We drove up Old Topanga Canyon Road, past my first house, past Erik’s old house, past the home of the Strychnine Sisters and on to Red Rock. We almost gave up, the single-lane road crowded in by parked cars and garbage cans, twisting and rutted, and so obviously leading nowhere.

Red Rock Hillside

Red Rock is beautiful, even with a giant home TV antenna almost at the top of Calabasas Peak. An alligator lizard lay twitching in the road, fatally injured. I have no memories of this part of Topanga, the home of infant me. My mother remembers it though, of once giving a ride to Charles Manson, and throwing him out of the the v-dub once he started rambling. His race riot fantasies are the wet dreams of today’s GOP. How sad to go from one crazy motherfucker to an entire political movement full of them.

Dead Alligator Lizard

I love the shade, but wish for wider roads. Topanga was a refuge for the beatniks and hippies. It’s a good thing they got rich, because there is no way they could afford to live here now. Rattlesnakes and earthquakes, hillsides and mudslides, brush fires sweeping through the canyons. This is my childhood.

Ali takes in the view


«page 5 of 18»
Share |
Categories
Archives
License
Creative Commons License

Welcome , today is Friday, May 18, 2012