Do Ravens Have Spittle? And Other Burning Questions



The sun is shining bright down on Frog Pond Holler today. The air is crisp and smells of wood fires.. and the occasional whiff of Trail Burgers from the diner.

They make these grass burgers on whole grain (with flax seed! Shoot me now,) hard to choke down.

I got off track with all things food related sometime around Thanksgiving. There were donuts by the coffee pot at The Asylum, mystery cookies in a plain brown wrapper delivered by UPS, covered with teeny tiny chocolate chips and a Mrs. Smith's cream of coconut pie that I pecked at for days. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who ate any of it after Turkey Day.

I don't know how high my blood sugar got, I was conveniently out of strips, but it's a good bet that it wasn't healthy.

Don't worry, I'm back on the grass burgers, steel cut oats and apples dipped in peanut butter. Factor in that I pretty much live in an RV without running water or.. ya know.. facilities.. and I'm only one step away from dancing around a bonfire, naked, under a full moon with my lover, Wheatgerm Lovemonkey and making shampoo from bunny poop and raven spittle.

Do ravens have spittle?

Anywho....

Lola the bunny is growing like crazy. I slept on the couch in front of the heater last night, so I left her crate open. When I woke up this morning, she was sprawled out in the floor on a blanket I'd lost sometime during the night, chilling out right beside me.

I'd like to think it's cuz she loves me, but I'm pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that it was 23 degrees last night and she was trying to hog the heat. Speaking of the temperature, let me just add that the 4a.m. nature call has a whole new meaning when you have to get up and hoof it across the frozen mutha freakin' tundra.. in the DARK, a process I wouldn't have to endure if Cousin H weren't such a booty hole.

I haven't heard from him at all, by the way. He can still bite me.

Back at The Asylum, it's been crazy busy. The new plant manager's true colors have slowly shown themselves. Everyone is "darlin'" and "hunneee." She says "Thank yewwwwwwwwwww" and when I leave for the evening she's all "Later guuuuuurl." She also likes to play two halves against the middle, goes behind closed doors with the pervert general manager for an hour every day when he comes in (that never happened when the plant manager was male) and goes on and on about food and calories and being fat (a mild breeze would prolly carry her away.) To sum it up, everything that comes out of her mouth is about three fourths full of caca.

Just my opinion.

I made a huge haul at the rag pickin' last weekend. I found two antique books I've listed on Etsy, plus a PILE of sheets for rugs AND some thermal back drapes for the girl cave bedroom. Not a bad haul. I've been looking for things I can list under the "vintage" category on Etsy to kinda offset the amount of time I put in to the rugs. It's sort of sad that I'm able to find leather bound books in near perfect condition, from 1919, just tossed in the bottom of a giant bin along side other assorted unwanted things.

Oh my damn. I just got an email. Seriously. JUST NOW. I sold one of the books. I may be on to something!



 For now, I guess I'd better go do a small load of laundry.. or my options for office attire tomorrow will be "none" or "stinky."

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

t