Deviant Dispatches

(At least, to one who understands language.) I don't think I need to emphasize too heavily that there's swearing ahead ... . If you weren't lying on the floor like an asshole,  then maybe I wouldn't have stepped on you. You JUST ate. You're not good enough to deserve more food yet. If you keep whining, I will never feed you again. No, I'm not letting you outside today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. If you wake me again tonight, I'm going to lock you in the basement for the next six hours. Stop licking  my hand,  you horse's ass. Maybe if you behave, I won't get rid of you. Get off my pillow or I will throw you across the room. Look! It's the neighbor's angry dog. You should go outside and play with it! Stop peeing in your cage. We're only going to the doctor. (For some reason, I imagine this being said by Brock Samson of Venture Brothers.)

Dear Henry Vilas Zoo, I have made a personal goal in my life to pet a penguin sometime before my next birthday, in October. I'm sure you are all familiar with the drive that comes with a personal goal like that - after all, you did have to save up for a giraffe, and those guys can't be cheap. Allow me to describe to you in detail why allowing me to pet one of your poofy Antarctic critters is in everyone's best interests. (I would go for four-part harmonies here, but this is not Alice's Restaurant and I am definitely not Arlo Guthrie. Sorry to disappoint.) 1. There's a rumor going around that penguins are not soft creatures - they are actually so sharp and solid that you could cut your hand on their dagger-like feathers. I cannot abide this kind of slander and intend to prove to the world that penguins are less like rocks and more like hot water bottles. This is first-rate journalism, I tell you. 2. Remember the movie Madagascar? I believe that having wa...

Happy Monday! Are you the big goat or the little goat? This morning, my head felt like the little one. I'd love another day off, but that would be greedy of me. I had a great weekend, with lots of reading, knitting, time with Spousal Unit, and a few hours of wool carding at the farm. "You're not allowed to have better facial hair than me. C'mere, let me nibble it." This is one of the sheep I helped shear in the spring... ...and this is the resulting wool, cleaned, dyed, and ready for carding. I made seven rovings, which can now be turned into yarn! I really like the cotton candy one. And the blue, purple, and green one. Arranging the flower box cornucopia, just like my mama taught me.

Last weekend, we visited Eplegaarden , "da apple orchard vit da Norvegian experience." They have pretty much everything you could want in an orchard/pumpkin patch experience. Awesome animals were among them. Here, Spousal Unit and his goat friend model their fabulous hiar. We picked a small bag of ginormous apples - honeycrisp! Sandy picked her first pumpkin - ever! A great bluegrass group serenaded us as we paid for the produce. Even the shop in the big red barn was charming. This clock ran backwards! Ole &Lena's Time: Going back to the Good Old Days

Source 1. They both like to smack each other around. 2. The highest point in the vicinity makes them king of the mountain - even if it's only two feet higher than everything around it. 3. I might also be allergic to mountain goat noses. I have no reason to suspect this, but hey, it's possible. 4. They will eat (or try to eat) almost anything I leave lying it around. For all I know, a mountain goat might also decide to regurgitate something it has eaten in a mysterious corner of the house, staining the carpet a weird shade of blue. 5. They  look legless  when they curl up on the ground. 6. Their feet can inflict a great deal of pain. 7. If there is one in my apartment, chances are it won't take long to destroy something of mine - like my sweater (story coming later this week).

Friday has needed to be here since Monday. Here is your reward for making it this far. 1. Bunny. 2. Last night's sunset, from the old hunting grounds. 3. An odd personification of a caterpillar. Early Stages: "This leaf tastes great! So does this one! And this one!" Middle Stages: "I'm so hungry. It's like I can't get full enough. Do I eat because I'm fat or am I fat because I eat?" Later Days: "WTF? Where is this weird stringy stuff coming from?" Shortly After: "AUGH! I have a compulsive desire to encase my body in it! I don't want to!" In the Cocoon: "Must ... control ... claustrophobia ..."

Last night sucked. I woke up at least five times, including at 5:30, when I just drifted in and out of sleep for the rest of my sleepytime. The cats (and by the cats I mean Titania - I always mean Titania) ate the remaining plant we brought from New Mexico down to a nub. Yesterday came with a fair amount of suckage, and today's weather forecast is Sauna of Death. So today, we all get to look a fuzzy things in teapots. Source Source  Source  Source  Source    Source Source  Source

One day, you are all going to be so sick of farm pictures. But that day is not today, because I have lamb pictures. For some reason, lambs like containers, so these little spotted guys are hanging out near (and in) one. My main purpose in going to the farm was to work with wool, but new lambs are a bit time-consuming (and adorable) so I didn't do all that much with fluff. But I did make the blue and brown ball of roving, which is ready to be spun into yarn or used for needle felting. Turned out decent for my first one! These two were only a few hours old when I met them! Their names are Simon and Sigfried. (I went *squee* in my heart so many times while I was there.) A few of the lambs have to be bottle-fed. Some lost their mother during birth, and some are just so cold in this awful spring that they have to be reminded that food is awesome. This tiny fuzzball is one of the oldest this season at two weeks. But she's the runt of the litter, and while oth...

My favorite picture of Titania so far: It's not one of Oberon's more flattering shots. Or Titania's, I guess. But look at that wide-open cat mouth full of teeth! She's a kitty!

Last night, I took up a new knitting project. I was thinking of a relative I haven't seen in a while, and I wanted to knit something to show I was thinking of her. Many might think that, in deciding on a string of knitted, stuffed hearts, I fell prey to corporate marketing . Many more might agree, as I chose pink alpaca yarn for this craft. Honestly, I was just throwing together something I thought this relative would enjoy. Nothing more. I admit to being a bit distracted as I worked. We were watching Alien . Yes, Alien . I have made a mental note to myself that scifi thrillers are not conducive to good knitting, at least on first viewing. I began the project (chosen from here ) with no problems whatsoever. The stitches fell into place easily; the instructions were easy to understand. But with all of the hosting and egg-laying and gnashing of teeth on the TV screen, I missed a vital step in knitting the first heart: I forgot to knit every other row without adding...

Dear cats, Look at you there, pretending you're adorable when you're unconscious and cuddling with a knitted GIR . I am not fooled. Yes, your cuteness abounds. Your fuzzy faces are sweet, and you are so fun to watch when you play. But you have much to learn, young Jedi. Fear leads to hate, hate leads to anger, and excessive meowing leads to suffering on my part. Just listen to you. On this occasion, it was rather cute, to hear you beg and beg as I prepared your dinner - Titania, you are an especially skilled biped. But lately, both of you - yes, even Oberon - have taken to whining whenever I'm in the kitchen, regardless of how recently you've been fed. The kitchen has people-food, too. Get used to it. I know you'll probably get over your obsessive nature in time, once you realize that we will always feed you when it's time, give you treats on a daily basis, and rub your bellies when you're drowsy enough to like it. In the meantime, ou...

I really have no idea what "indoor chicken flavor" cat treats taste like, and I don't want to know. I'm also curious about Titania's seating choice. But I'm not one to hate on a person (or cat) for their lifestyle choices. Sit wherever you want, cat.

I have two things to tell you about today. One of them is thrilling like getting caught in a cool rain on a hot day. The other one is thrilling like discovering something at the back of the fridge has turned an unusual color. This week, I made brussels sprouts. (You already know which one this is, don't you? Damn. I tried so hard to make it a guessing game.) We realized, heading home last night, that we had no vegetables at home. "What kind of vegetarians are we?" the two of us wondered, missing our summer CSA. So we stopped at Aldi for cauliflower, radishes, and, of course, brussels sprouts. This is how they grow, in case you were wondering. I know I was. All about the sprouts I've never made brussels sprouts before, so this was interesting. I charred them in butter and leftover bacon fat (yes, I saved it from the lovely CSA bacon we had a week ago), then let them simmer in veggie broth for four minutes and added salt. Spousal Unit, who...

Spousal Unit and I have kitties! Cats, to be precise. We found them at a shelter, about a week ago, and when we finally decided which ones we wanted (two of the shyest), I went nuts with some kind of weird maternal nesting. It was bizarre. I even made these toys. I'm glad the mouse turned out well; at first, it looked like a snake that had just eaten  a mouse. When our library was finally cat-proofed, bedded, and litterful, we went to pick them up. The ladies at the shelter had rather intense cases of "crazy cat lady," to the extent that, when Spousal Unit asked if the cats came with collars, one snipped, " Why do you want collars? Are they going to be outside? You don't need collars. They're microchipped. You're not going to let them outside, are you?" Talk about freak-out. The ride home was kind of nerve-wracking for the poor things (though the boy cat didn't move and didn't make a peep), but kind of exciting for us. They...