Not feeling so great. In fact, feeling really wretched. I went through some of my recent photos and thought I’d provide a few random shots.
Tag: compound
Rambling Random Run-on blah blah blah
Note: Kroger-brand cranberry juice is crap. I’m sorry, Kroger, but it just is. The grape juice and apple juice are okay, though.
Second note: If there’s anything Hewlett-Packard does right, it’s the way they set up a return/recycle feature with their printer cartridge packaging. Holla.
For the past couple of weeks, I haven’t felt…me-ish. I haven’t felt sick, though there were a couple of little indications that I might be. But because I like to self-diagnose with my degree in An Aries Knows Everything, I sort of ignored it. I felt fine on Tuesday night when I got to see my friend Lisa (she who my writing partners call Big Hair Lisa to separate her from other Lisas) for the first time in forty forevers. (Hi, Lisa! And the other Lisa, too!)
Lizzy runs this bitch.
A long time ago, someone told me “Every day, you see a cow.” I wanted to deny it, but in fact, I’ve come to believe it’s true. You see them on commercials, in pastures, in magazine ads, in kids’ drawings, in online stories and ads, on other people’s blogs, on kitchen towels, in art stores, in toy stores, in museums, on milk cartons or containers of sour cream, ice cream, cottage cheese, or even glue–they are FREAKING EVERYWHERE. And that’s okay with me, because unlike Gary, I feel great affection for cows. I’ll admit that at times I’ve been edgy when walking around a group of them, because they stare at me with those bovine expressions of theirs and I start to wonder, What are you up to, pretending to so placidly chew your cud? Are you planning a revolt against your oppressors and murderers?
(Full disclosure: Yes, I do eat beef. I’m fully aware that makes me a cow killer, and I frequently apologize to the cows and find that I’m eating fewer and fewer of them. Also, I attempt to atone for it in this feeble way: Having fed baby calves from huge bottles when I was a young’un and seen their sweet eyes looking up at me, I have never and will never eat veal. Your grazing habits may vary on either side of this fence; I leave it to you to pontificate about the meat issue on your own blog or journal. This is the journal of a guilty cow killer.)
Strange things afoot at The Compound
I never really know what’s going to happen at The Compound. Monday afternoon, I was sitting at my computer, doing something Very Important, when suddenly I saw hovering over me the strange creature pictured below. From behind it, I heard a voice say, “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”
What’s up, Doc?
According to dog nutritionists, if you want to feed your dog vegetables, you need to break them down into fiber and juice, because dog intestines are too short to have time to do that naturally before they eliminate the veggies. This is why I use the blender to make the veggie cubes we toss in with the Compound Canines’ raw meat.
Earlier, I was sitting on the front porch chomping on an individual bag of baby carrots when I realized that three sets of soulful eyes were watching me, haunches planted firmly on the porch; they know they have to sit before getting a treat.
“You won’t like it,” I told them.
They clearly didn’t believe me. It doesn’t hurt to give them carrots; they just may get no nutritional value from them. So I finished what I wanted to eat of the carrots. By this time, Margot had joined the other three, so I told her to sit, too. I then gave each dog a baby carrot. Three made a liar out of me (You won’t like it). Pixie and Guinness crunched on their carrots with glee. Rex took his out to the sidewalk to savor it in pieces without fear of someone else snatching part of it. And Margot spit hers out and walked away, her disgusted expression conveying, “Nice try. Make my next one beef, please.”
While we were enjoying the moment, some asswipe in a truck tore down the street at a ridiculous speed which defied the two stop signs at either end of our block. I desperately wished I were Garp. Which reminded me that I want to read that book again. It’s been years.
Count Your Cows
Back in the days when Lynne and I were young girls and joined each other’s families on trips, she taught me how to play Counting Cows. I’m sure everyone has their own rules and points for this game, but basically, every cow I saw out my window was worth a point. A gray mule equaled twenty cows, and a white mule was a hundred cows. If we came to a cemetery on my side of the car, Lynne could shout, “Bury your cows!” and I was back to zero. Or vice versa. The point was to DISTRACT your opponent so she didn’t see the cemetery, because once past it, your cow points were safe.
These days, since I live a mere mile from downtown Houston, I’m sure most people wouldn’t guess that we actually have a herd of cows on the The Compound. Nobody can accuse us of being all hat, no cattle.
Today, while shopping, I found a cow with three legs for three dollars. (This reminds me of a terrible joke my brother once told me about a Valiant Pig, but I digress. As I should. I’m a SOUTHERNER.) Now who wouldn’t buy a cow for three dollars? Especially when its missing leg came with it. I wouldn’t have to trade this cow for a handful of magic beans. I could do cow surgery!
So now Vincent Van Cogh has moved onto The Compound and been restored to good health.
A handsome, blue-eyed man
The James in Timothy James Beck…
While Jim was here, it couldn’t be all play and no work. That would confuse my Virgo friend. So we set him to the task of signing hardcover copies of Timothy James Beck’s When You Don’t See Me. I feel that I should make one of these books, signed by its writers, a prize for something.
Maybe for the person who gives me…
A topic suitable for my 1000th Twitter tweet?
A character name that I can’t resist for my next novel?
A WINNING LOTTERY TICKET?
Something to think about.
Photo Friday, No. 158
Current Photo Friday theme: Cameraphone Shot
Even though the Photo Friday site gave us a heads-up that this would be a future theme, I had no hope of getting a technically good shot with my phone’s camera; it could suck the chrome off a Koda.
Still, Timothy’s foster daughter Pixie and his boy Rexford G. Lambert are good subjects. They can’t be blamed for the poor photo quality.
Wee Dinosaur
Photographed from a great distance.
More fruity goodness
Remember when I posted a photo of the Lime Slice Chick on the card that Marika sent me? A couple of days ago, she sent me another of those cards, this time the Orange Slice Chick, and it arrived on the same day that I got a card from Lynne of a glittery orange slice. Synchronicity! They now hang over the window that my desk faces, so I can enjoy them all the time. Thanks, y’all!
Since I was asked, ETA: The cards are from Papyrus and are actually “Mai Tai Girl” and “Margarita Girl.” There are several other “Girl” sets with flowers, food, and fashion. You can see many of them in various categories on their web site.