So, yesterday Fred told me that Stephen King is working on another Dark Tower book, The Wind Through the Keyhole. And then I read (at that same link) that he’s also considering a sequel to The Shining.
Now, y’all know I love me some Stephen King. I love the HELL out of Stephen King, and I’ve read just about everything he’s written.
(Disclaimer: I have no fucking use for those graphic novels/ comic books he’s putting out, though.)
But can we agree that it’s well past fucking time for him to stop flogging the goddamn Dark Tower stuff? And what the fuck is up with The Shining requiring a sequel? IT DOESN’T.
I actually said to Fred yesterday, “You know, I think maybe it’s time for him to retire if he’s going to keep revisiting the same old shit over and over again.”
(Not seriously, Stephen King. Don’t retire, okay?)
So, happy birthday to me! (And thank you to those of you who wished me a happy birthday!) Yesterday I turned 43. I don’t feel a day over 43, but I’m sure I look it. Whatevs.
On Saturday, we went to our favorite feed store where we usually stop if we’re going up toward Tennessee, because we saw the owner in Walmart when we were buying groceries for the week and he informed us that they had a baby llama running around the store because they were bottle feeding it.
Around mid-morning, we headed up to the feed store, and that was one seriously adorable baby llama.
She (we think it’s a she) was four weeks old. She had the softest fur, and while she let us pet her, she wasn’t crazy about the petting, and didn’t come when we called or made kissy noises at her. In fact, she just went wherever she wanted, and if there were people there to pet her, she’d put up with it for a minute or two before wandering off.
She was all legs and ears and big ol’ eyes with lush, thick eyelashes. What a cutie. But there were other babies there, as well, outside with their mamas…
Baby pygmy goats all over the place – the one above was less than an hour old.
More babies, snuggled up against the big llama (who may or may not have been the mother to the baby llama who was in the store).
Also, there was a donkey or two there – adults, not babies. They were very soft and liked being petted.
After we left the feed store, we headed to Decatur for lunch. It being the day before my birthday, Fred told me we could go anywhere I wanted (with some limitations, that is – he didn’t want to go all the way to Huntsville for PF Chang’s because “We can get Chinese food closer to home!” Well, I’ve never been to PF Chang’s, which is why I wanted to give it a try, but I can see his point.) We discussed many different places, and finally I decided we’d go to Decatur to this little country cooking restaurant we’ve passed many times. It claims to be the “home” of the fried green tomato, and it’s always packed at breakfast time on the weekends, and I enjoy some good country cooking, so off we went.
In the end, though I’d decided beforehand that I wanted breakfast for lunch (they serve breakfast all day), I decided I was in the mood for a burger, and it ended up being pretty good. Nothing fancy, but certainly good, filling food. And we did get fried green tomatoes, and they were very good.
Then we came home, and Fred killed zombies on the Xbox, and I hung out with the kittens and puttered around the house. Then, around 2:00, Fred said “Oh, shit! I’m supposed to make your cake!” and I said “Oh, shit! You are! I forgot!” and he NOT ONLY made my birthday cake (a Black Forest Torte which is TO DIE FOR), but he ALSO cleaned up the kitchen afterward, which might be the best birthday present EVER.
(Once again, the torte recipe is hither.)
We hung around the house for the rest of the evening, settled down in front of the TV around 7, and watched a couple of shows on Netflix (World’s Most Dangerous Drug and World’s Most Dangerous Gang, both reported by Lisa Ling, whom I lurve.
(That woman either completely lacks the fear gene, or fakes it really well. She’s amazing.)
Sunday morning I got up before I really wanted to, because I had to pee, and after walking through the 64-degree upstairs, sitting on a cold toilet seat, and walking back to my not-warm-enough bed, I was wide awake.
We didn’t really do much except peer out the window every ten minutes to see if the snow had started. At noon I made Fred pick up Chinese food for me for lunch (“It’s my biiiiiiirthday!”) and I made a frittata for dinner, and yeah. Not an exciting birthday, but I kinda like it like that.
I cleared off my FlipCam disc over the weekend, so I’ll be sharing a couple of videos a day ’til they’ve all been shared. First, one from back in November, when Buster and Starsky were still here.
And the second is a very short one, up close and personal with Bobby Brady:
Jake loves to hang out with the babies.
Last night I could hear the sound of kittens running back and forth and back and forth upstairs. I went upstairs and went into the kitten room, and didn’t see a single one. I picked up a jingly toy and shook it back and forth, and the sound of galloping kittens came closer, until Jake ran into the room, all six Bradys surrounding him. It was seriously cute.
Previously
2010: I told them I loved ‘em and to stop being drama queens, and then left.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: And my Self said “Wow, that sounds like a pain in the ass.”
2006: “I had a double serving of beans last night/ and I’ve got some hard gas going on/ Pull my finger, baby.”
2005: Back from Maine!
2004: My parents’ Christmas decorations.
2003: And yet, show me a zit and I’m on it in two seconds flat.
2002: “IF YOU WERE THAT FUCKING INTERESTED IN HOW MUCH EVERYTHING COST, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION WHEN SHE WAS RINGING IT ALL UP!”
2001: My body gave me two birthday presents yesterday – my period (a day early) AND a mild return case of conjunctivitis.
2000: In his narcotic cough syrup-induced haze, he nodded sympathetically and hacked a big green chunk of lung onto his plate.