The last of the Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces have been made and are available at Crooked Acres. I used up every last habanero, and now there’s a wee bit of space in my freezer, thank god. When the jams that I have in stock are gone, that’ll be it ’til at least mid-summer, … Continue reading “2/23/09”

The last of the Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces have been made and are available at Crooked Acres. I used up every last habanero, and now there’s a wee bit of space in my freezer, thank god.

When the jams that I have in stock are gone, that’ll be it ’til at least mid-summer, when the habaneros start to come in again (though truth be told, I’m usually busy enough with canning and freezing in mid-summer that I may not get around to making more jams and hot sauces ’til early Fall). Just so you know!

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Saturday morning, I slept in ’til almost 7, then got up and puttered around the house for a bit ’til it was time to head out for a very important date.

I made sure to dress appropriately.


We drove up into Northern Alabama, very close to the Tennessee state line, down a lazy country road, and I wished that we could find about 30 acres of land in the area.

(And then Fred reminded me that we’d probably go stir-crazy out in the middle of nowhere. We consider ourselves to live in the country right now, but it takes us about 10 minutes to get to Wal-Mart, the grocery store, Lowe’s, the co-op. We’re in a very convenient location!)

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We thought it was going to take 45 minutes to get to our destination, but it really took more like 30. That was okay with the man we were going to meet, though – he was ready for us.

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Fred had told him that we wanted two small pigs, so he’d penned up three smallish ones. I really liked the smallest one because it was little and cute, but Fred said that he thought it’d be best if we got two pigs at least close to the same size, so I said that was okay with me.

The pig man caught the two piglets we’d decided upon, and Fred held the carrier. The piglets did not care for being put into a carrier, for the record.

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And then Fred and the pig man stood and talked and talked and talked, so I walked around and snapped some pictures.

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I do not like these birds. They are weird-looking and obnoxious.

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The pig man told Fred that he didn’t think he could have pigs if it wasn’t for this dog, who is apparently a very good herder. He also told Fred that he accidentally ran over the dog with his truck the other day – both tires went over the dog – and he thought for sure the dog was a goner, but the dog is just fine. He was moving okay as far as I could see!

We got home in no time, took the pigs out to meet George and Gracie, who did not much approve.

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“What the -?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

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Then we let them go in the pig yard, and they explored and explored and explored. Fred tried to get them to take a cookie out of his hand, but they weren’t much up for that. George and Gracie chased the pigs around (with the pigs in the pig yard and the dogs outside the pig yard), but eventually gave up once they realized they couldn’t actually get to the pigs.

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Yesterday, Fred went out and with some coaxing, got the black pig to take a cookie from him. He informed me several times that he’s NEVER gotten a pig to take a cookie from him on only the second day before.

It’s only just begun, little pigs. You have no idea how many cookies are in your future!

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The latest chicks are two weeks old, and the two born from eggs laid by either the Featherheads or the Rock Star (or some combination thereof) seem to be developing little baby mohawks.

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I absolutely cannot wait to see what these babies look like when they’re grown up!

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As more time goes by, Samba and Rumba spend more and more time venturing forth throughout the house. Rumba’s the more adventurous of the two, but Samba makes it downstairs all the time now, too. I wish they didn’t get nervous and run back upstairs if I run into their general direction, like they think they’re in trouble. I am perfectly fine with having them explore the house!

They know the routine of bedtime, that’s for sure. Every night after we turn the TV off and go upstairs, the kittens run up ahead of me, and then run into the foster room when they see me coming. Sometimes they need to be coaxed into the foster room with the use of the laser light (Samba, especially, loves the laser light!), but most of the time they just run into the room and wait for me to shut the door.

I let them out first thing in the morning, as soon as I get up, and they’re always waiting for me to open the door.

Samba caught sight of herself in the mirror on my closet door the other day:

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More kitten pics over at Love&Hisses.

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Outside Mama, glaring malevolently. She will mess you UP.

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2008: No entry.
2007: Seriously, I might be a bit lackadaisical in my housekeeping, but I wouldn’t let CAT POO sit around on the floor, let alone let it show up in a picture!
2006: Second of all, we both hate our voices and to release them forth into the world would be a cruelty beyond measure.
2005: Impromptu day off.
2004: I’m going to save a fortune on tampons, that’s for sure.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Damn that Sam’s.
2000: Heartless bastard.