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rootofnewtThere are many ways I protect my abode. One involves Mutant Potato Anemones. Avoid them if you wish to remain in one piece.
I also employ a cow who can lick out her nostrils. Sadly, I don't have a picture of this actually happening. Do notice the lack of snot in her right nostril. Just prior to my snapping this shot, she licked out a nostril-ful. Oh, yes, fear her.
Let's not dwell on all that right now.
Our story begins in my house, earlier today. Well, yesterday. I woke up around 1:30 and stumbled into the front room. After awhile, it started snowing.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
explodingcat begged to go for a walk in the swiftly falling snow, but I was too not-awake-yet to want to go. Sadly, the snow stopped. I felt horrid, so I went for a walk with boy.
We had a quest, we walkers. We wanted to find the tumbleweed. You see, we leave the tumbleweed to roam free within the confines of our fenced acreage. Sometimes, it tumbles quite a ways before we can manage to fetch it again. This time, it rolled all the way up to the corner of our yard, to a spot where a large box of ours (actually, the box the tumbleweed arrived in) once fled. That box is now shoved underneath the back porch and held down by potting soil. I have no clue why boy has yet to throw it away. I don't ask.
Anyhow, boy picked up his beloved tumbleweed. I commented on the sogginess of my shoes and we turned to trudge back to the house. Boy stopped.. "Look! It's so pretty."
Indeed, Our yard was very pretty. Much prettier and starker than this picture, in fact.
We dropped off the tumbleweed and spoke to the nostril licking cow. In fact, all the cows were quite interested, one even smelled the camera. Then the cows started shoving each other, vying for a spot nearest me. We decided to head off toward a crow, which also flew off. My life was resembling a song from my favorite Russian/Soviet film, so I fled to the bird bath.
The bird bath was icy. I gave the platter of ice to boy, who promptly decided to dash it to pieces on the driveway.
(and he calls me the fairy of entropy?!?!?)
Well, of course, the sight of the carnage he had wrought inspired boy. He begins kicking the shards of ice, exclaiming, "My sweet music!"
At this point, I pack it in. I was wearing sneakers and hiking socks and my toes were thoroughly wet, my jeans were wet, and i was tired. I came inside, stripped down to his undies, and curled up on the couch, over the heater vent.
Well, before I know it, he comes inside. He leaves with the computer, a microphone, and a small footstool. Intent upon recording this madness, I stepped into my clogs and followed him.
This is what I see, sitting in the driveway, under a cloudy sky with a sun playing hide and seek. As soon as he arranges his octave, boy returns to adjust his recording software. And then he stands up and kicks the first chunk of ice. It skids under the microphone and shoots under the stool. He deftly kicks a few more times. Then he shuffles them a bit, scattering them, ricocheting one of another, etc.
Of course, he has an audience. They are rapt with envy or cud or something.
Needless to say, I'm getting chilly in my clogs, boxer briefs, and long-sleeve tshirt, so I head inside again and await his return.
Boy and I lived happily ever after that evening. I haven't let him access his sound files yet.
I also employ a cow who can lick out her nostrils. Sadly, I don't have a picture of this actually happening. Do notice the lack of snot in her right nostril. Just prior to my snapping this shot, she licked out a nostril-ful. Oh, yes, fear her.
Let's not dwell on all that right now.
Our story begins in my house, earlier today. Well, yesterday. I woke up around 1:30 and stumbled into the front room. After awhile, it started snowing.
explodingcat begged to go for a walk in the swiftly falling snow, but I was too not-awake-yet to want to go. Sadly, the snow stopped. I felt horrid, so I went for a walk with boy.We had a quest, we walkers. We wanted to find the tumbleweed. You see, we leave the tumbleweed to roam free within the confines of our fenced acreage. Sometimes, it tumbles quite a ways before we can manage to fetch it again. This time, it rolled all the way up to the corner of our yard, to a spot where a large box of ours (actually, the box the tumbleweed arrived in) once fled. That box is now shoved underneath the back porch and held down by potting soil. I have no clue why boy has yet to throw it away. I don't ask.
Anyhow, boy picked up his beloved tumbleweed. I commented on the sogginess of my shoes and we turned to trudge back to the house. Boy stopped.. "Look! It's so pretty."
Indeed, Our yard was very pretty. Much prettier and starker than this picture, in fact.
We dropped off the tumbleweed and spoke to the nostril licking cow. In fact, all the cows were quite interested, one even smelled the camera. Then the cows started shoving each other, vying for a spot nearest me. We decided to head off toward a crow, which also flew off. My life was resembling a song from my favorite Russian/Soviet film, so I fled to the bird bath.
The bird bath was icy. I gave the platter of ice to boy, who promptly decided to dash it to pieces on the driveway.
(and he calls me the fairy of entropy?!?!?)
Well, of course, the sight of the carnage he had wrought inspired boy. He begins kicking the shards of ice, exclaiming, "My sweet music!"
At this point, I pack it in. I was wearing sneakers and hiking socks and my toes were thoroughly wet, my jeans were wet, and i was tired. I came inside, stripped down to his undies, and curled up on the couch, over the heater vent.
Well, before I know it, he comes inside. He leaves with the computer, a microphone, and a small footstool. Intent upon recording this madness, I stepped into my clogs and followed him.
This is what I see, sitting in the driveway, under a cloudy sky with a sun playing hide and seek. As soon as he arranges his octave, boy returns to adjust his recording software. And then he stands up and kicks the first chunk of ice. It skids under the microphone and shoots under the stool. He deftly kicks a few more times. Then he shuffles them a bit, scattering them, ricocheting one of another, etc.
Of course, he has an audience. They are rapt with envy or cud or something.
Needless to say, I'm getting chilly in my clogs, boxer briefs, and long-sleeve tshirt, so I head inside again and await his return.
Boy and I lived happily ever after that evening. I haven't let him access his sound files yet.
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no subject
Date: 2003-01-06 04:37 am (UTC)*laughs*
no subject
Date: 2003-01-06 07:59 am (UTC)Did you see my party invititation to you guys in your 1/05 entry??
**huggles**
-- Andi
no subject
Date: 2003-01-06 10:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-01-06 08:44 am (UTC)it's gonna be harder to find snot-licking-cows back in town, ya know...