… chickens, who lay itsy bitsy, teeny weenie eggs! I *heart* them!
My bantam hen, whom I assumed was a pity rescue from Animal Control and probably dumped after being past her egg laying prime, seems to be coming into her own. Perhaps her and Kenny Rogers Roaster Rooster were actually just young ‘uns, because for the past two days I have an ever-so-small white egg in amongst the big brown ones.
One of my few girlie concessions is a fondness for miniaturized things, so teeny little eggs makes me clap my hands rapidly up under my chin and do a little happy dance :)
I was so pleased that I decided we needed to celebrate with some new-to-us Fifa.
My coworker Angela brought Mr. Woo a new Fifa after she heard about how much he loves to play with them. Except this one is called a Mon Dial.
Is that french for GET IN MY MOUTH STUPID OVERLY LARGE BALL!!?
It’s true, “Get The Mon Dial” is a mouthful alright, so we still call it “Fifa.”
I don’t care what name you give it, it still means “I’m not getting off the porch until you stop kicking it.”
You’ll notice an absence of Tweed in these shots too, since he also refuses to play with Fifa. You’d think after 11 years, he’d have realized that a kicked soccer ball is not in anyway harmful.
Then again … maybe he’s on to something.
But I don’t want to leave you Tweed-less, so instead I’ll use a reasonable facsimile. This is Kiva, who is an older, redder Tweed, and he dem0nstrates how Tweed *would* look were Tweed present, and hiding from the soccer ball.
Kiva was getting some glamour shots done, for no reason other than he’s dreamy!
Phhhlllbbbtt on Kiva. I believe we were playing Fifa?
Right, sorry about that Woo. As you were.
The sun finally – FINALLY – came out to play this week. At last! I even got my painful, annual Regionals sunburn, albeit two weeks behind schedule. I was so happy to see the sun yesterday that I don’t think I spent more than 5 minutes in the house all day long. But that was probably because I was tackling the creeping buttercups, where are once again taking over. It’s only been a week, for pete’s sake! But they-‘re ba-ack!
It’s hard work to manoeuvre Fifa through the buttercups. Please fix this problem!
This summer I took the radical precaution of shaving dog bellies. I started with Tweed, since he has the undercoat of a sheep this year – that was a cold winter, and he grew the proper clothes to accommodate it. Unfortunately for us both, he doesn’t enjoy having his matted belly brushed, so I just enlisted the help of a coworker and we shaved off all his belly hair. The first time he laid down on a cool tile floor, he was mighty surprised, that’s for sure. But now he seems to quite like it.
So then we shaved Piper, who kicked my coworker in the face a bunch of times … apparently vibrating machinery near her underbelly is not her idea of a good time. But since Piper collapses sometimes in the heat, and my dogs are so not acclimated to hot weather this year, I am hoping that having a cooler belly will help with her endurance.
Judging from her long game of Fifa in the heat without collapsing, it might just be helping!
You didn’t shave my belly because I have no hair on it anyway!
Poor TWooie … his seasonal contact allergies paid him a visit at the same time the sun did. His stomach is once again red and inflamed. It must really suck to be allergic to the stuff you walk on and hunt in :( I wish I could find something that helped him be less itchy. Not only because I feel bad for him, but because I hate the sound of him munching and licking away at his stomach when he climbs onto my bed at night. Yuck. Any suggestions?
Happy summer ya’ll! We’re heading back outside to enjoy some more of this fine weather before I head back to work for the rest of the week. But next week, fence building begins. Oh yes it does – the evil plans to create a WooTWoo containment system are finally coming together!
I fear no fences. You can’t fence me in! I dismiss your efforts.
Way to stomp all over a gal’s ego, Woo. Thanks a lot. Harumph.