I am completely out of new logos! I’ll leave it with the current one for now. Anyone out there feeling creative? Help a sister out! I needs logos!
Happy Labor Day, Americans and Canadians!
Happy Monday to the rest of you.
We figured it would take all weekend to find little pigs – if we were able to find any at all – but the first place we looked (Dog Days Flea Market in Tennessee) had them. We ended up with girls this time around, and since one’s bigger than the other, we’re calling them “Big Pig” and “Little Pig.” Hey, if it ain’t broke, right?
These are the same kind of pigs as the last ones – Yorkshires – but they’re thinner and longer than the other ones were. They’re a lot friendlier than the other ones were at first, too, I don’t know if that’s because these were better treated in their initial home or because they’re girls, or what.
Big Pig loves – LOVES! – tomatoes, but has no use for donuts (they’re the cheap and crappy donuts, to be fair. Perhaps she requires a fancier donut?). She also ate the hell out of a miniature pecan pie Saturday night.
Neither of them was interested in celery (can’t say as I blame them) or raw eggplant (ditto). They’re eating the hell out of the grass in their yard, though. They “talk” to each other a lot, always grunting back and forth, and they stick together most of the time, too.
It was a lonnnnnnnnng week without pigs, and it’s really nice to have some out there again, ready and willing to eat (most) kitchen scraps and look cute and entertain us.
I don’t know how they feel about piggerdoodles, but I’ll be making a batch later today, so we’ll see!
For the record, despite the fact that Fred’s been pushing for it for at least the last couple of months? We are NOT breeding pigs. Two pigs in that pig yard is the perfect number, I never smell the pig stink from the house (in fact, you have to get pretty close to the pig yard to smell them), and I have no desire to stress out over baby pigs.
NO THANK YOU.
Don’t be all “Oh suuuuuuure you won’t breed pigs, I bet this time next year you’ll have a whole OPERATION going!”, because you’ll note that despite Fred’s often-repeated desire to own goats, there’s not a goat to be seen anywhere on Crooked Acres.
No goats, no pig breeding.
I’ve said my piece and counted to three.
Kara seems to be getting more and more interested in the outdoors. She likes to sniff around the back door, and yesterday I had to push her back with my foot when she rushed the side door. If she ever gets to the point where she actually goes outside through the cat door, I’ll put a collar on her and let her hang out in the great outdoors. She seems leery of the cat door, though, so maybe she’ll remain inside. Despite having been allowed to come inside for the past year and a half, Newt still hasn’t gotten the hang of the cat door, so apparently it doesn’t come naturally to all cats.
(Maxi, on the other hand, goes in and out the cat door all the time.)
Zoe and Kaylee spend the majority of their time upstairs. I visit with them several times a day, and sometimes they come downstairs and look around (more Zoe than Kaylee), but they prefer to hang out on my bed.
When I go upstairs and they’re sleeping on my bed, I greet them and then lay down with them, and they look at me like I’m a great big interloper and WHY am I harassing them?
They don’t love me the way I love them, the little brats. They’ll tolerate my holding them for a few minutes at a time, but they don’t seek me out and ask to be petted.
Unless it’s Yummin’! Time!, of course. Yes, I’m still giving them morning and evening snacks consisting of a dab of chicken baby food and a dab of canned kitten food. They’re spoiled rotten and they LOVE ME when it’s Yummin’! Time! and I have a plate full of Yummin’!, but the rest of the time I’m just a great big slobbering goober who insists on PETTING them and KISSING them and wanting to snuggle them.
I know. I’m an unreasonable monster.
2007: No entry.
2006: The truth is, Fred has been excitedly pricing tractors every minute of every day since our offer on the house was accepted.
2005: Ahhhhh, smell that fresh, crisp autumn air! Why, it’s down to 90 degrees today. I almost need a sweater.
2004: She turned 86 last Thursday. She’s the only grandparent I’ve ever really known.
2003: (and you KNOW he insisted on it, was all temper tantrumy, screaming and beating his fists on the floor, wailing “ACTOR AND NOVELIST! ACTOR AND NOVELIST!”)
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.