Wouldn't it be wonderful to live by the minute and not by the work week?
Monday would be just another morning, not Monday morning.
Every day would be a weekend and no day would ever feel like Monday.
Throw away the clocks.
I go through phases whereby I wish these things.
And while I'm wishing, wouldn't it be wonderful to live like the "old days" with everyone home all day and living off the land, but with all the modern conveniences and modern thinking?
I think this is called a trust fund.
Well, no trust funds here so, onward!
The most perfect loaf ever.
May I also confess that I just got a cooling rack?
From my darling Emily's yard sale.
Cooling racks are good.
Spring onions are in abundance at the Farmers' Market this time of year.
I loaded up and made piles and piles and piles of caramelized onions.
The little boy looooves them on a tortilla with Gruyere cheese.
I also made "therearetoomanytomatoesgoingbad" pasta sauce.
With caramelized onions, of course.
Plus garlic and basil from the yard.
We've been going to the newest little Farmers' Market in my hood the last few weeks.
They've got some food trailers there, but I don't like the food at either of them.
I wish they'd get a smoothie/juice trailer.
Or a salad trailer.
I have officially decided that I do not like those Vietnamese sandwiches that everyone else loves.
Bahn Mi, I think.
I do not like them, Sam I am.
I have got to do something about getting more counter space.
Grocery store run plus Farmers' Market run and I am done for.
No mas space.
No mas sanity.
I get all jittery and shit when there is no room to put anything anywhere.
I need the above mentioned trust fund.
And for some equally titillating news ... some more blueberries are coming in.
My favorite egg-gathering apparatus is a shirt.
Look at that cannibal, Melba, looking at me.
She wants me to crack an egg for her dining pleasure.
(Which I do! Cackle, cackle.)
Who could resist such a face?
I went out to close the coop last night.
I was a tad late.
Found two MF opossums in my coop!!
I had to stand there and scream for Jack to come bring a light as all I had was a small solar footpath light from Target.
I was wielding it as both light and weapon.
Jack came running out with headlamps and a broom.
Not my first weapons of choice.
We cowered together in the corner yelling at one of them while it cowered in the corner hissing at us.
Opossums are so cute until they start hissing and then you're all like, Oh shit yea that thing can eat flesh and I am flesh.
OK, well, opportunists is probably a kinder term.
Anyway, we flushed him out, chased the other one off the roof, and all the ladies were safe and sound.
Chikkins are easy prey once they're asleep.
They go into a kind of coma trance thing.
I'm serious, they were all just sitting there slightly dazed while two freaking opossums were stalking them.
Maybe there's a hidden chikkin bong in there somewhere.
Thar she blows.
Yet another riveting post from yours truly.
La, la, la.
See ya tomorrow!