Complete and utter randomness (sorry I haven’t been posting, I suck, etc. etc.)
Fred and I went to Lacon Trade Day last Saturday. Lacon Trade Day is basically an outdoor flea market where they sell all manner of things. If you can think of it, they probably sell it there – especially if you’re looking for something like used t-shirts from the ’80s or rusted farm implements, canned goods, dented box food, the occasional produce. It’s kind of a crapfest, to be honest, and we rarely spend more than a couple of dollars. But it’s a place to go and spend some time, gets us out of the house, and I like the drive home. We usually drive there via the interstate and then drive home up a highway that meanders a bit.
We always start at the front of the flea market and work our way toward the back. The back is generally where the interesting stuff – chickens, turkeys, occasionally goats and pigs – is. Back when we were starting out and had our original 12 hens, we got our very first rooster, McLovin’, at Lacon.
So this time we were there about 45 minutes, and we decided to stop in Decatur on our way home to pick up subs for lunch. We were driving toward Firehouse Subs, when I noticed a small airplane towing a banner. I squinted up at it, trying to read what it said.
“Hey, there’s an airplane towing a banner,” Fred pointed out.
“Yeah, I see,” I said.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“I can’t tell.”
Fred drove, occasionally squinting up at the sign, and I kept trying to figure out the words.
“I see ‘Kyle’,” Fred said.
“Yeah… Visit? ‘Visit Kyle 4?” I said.
We squinted some more.
“‘Visit Kyle for…. Water,'” I finally declared. “Today!”
“Where are we supposed to visit Kyle for water? And why does it have to be today? Is this a one-time thing?” Fred pondered.
“That’s a bad sign,” I said. “It doesn’t even say where to find Kyle!”
“Bad advertising,” Fred agreed.
And just then the plane swooped closer.
“‘VOTE KYLE 4 MAYOR’,” Fred said. “‘TUESDAY’!”
That made a lot more sense but, y’know? I think I liked ours better.
After we’d picked up our subs and were headed home, we actually passed a small group of men waving “Kyle for Mayor” signs. Fred wouldn’t stop so I could say “WHERE’S MY GODDAMN WATER, KYLE?!” He’s no fun.
Over at Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I have been making all kinds of stuff. Banana Split Icebox Cake! Steel Cut Oatmeal in the Crock Pot! Blueberry Cream Cheese Hand Pies! And mooooooore!
Go check it out if you haven’t in a while.
Pro tip: If you walk by a cat toy 3,000 times in the course of a day, and every time you pass by, a little voice in your head says “That REALLY looks like a dead mouse. For serious.” and another little voice says “Yeah, but remember that one toy? It always makes us think it’s a dead mouse. Why would a dead mouse be under the dining room table? It’s just that toy.” If that happens? Then I recommend you stop and actually directly look at the goddamn thing.
Because it’s a fucking mouse, and it’s been sitting there ALL DAY LONG.
What made this particularly horrifying is that when I was scooping litter boxes in the morning (around 7), I looked down and said “Huh. That looks like a Navy Bean. What’s a Navy Bean doing here on the rug in the front room? And why is it attached to something long and grody looking?” I picked it up by the long and grody looking thing (don’t judge me) and called Fred over.
“What the holy fuck is this?” I asked.
He examined it. “It’s some sort of organ,” he said. “See the veins?”
I did indeed.
“I think it’s a bird testicle,” he said.
I shuddered, tossed it in the bag of litter box scoopings, and went to wash my hands.
Later, around noon, I went out into the back yard to hang something on the clothes line. There, laying in the middle of the walkway between the back steps and the cement patio, was a pile of what looked very much like small rodent organs that had been ingested and then vomited back up. It was covered in flies.
“UGH. Go out there and scoop that pile of nasty up and toss it out of the back yard!” I demanded.
“I’m not going out there,” Fred said.
Later, I was sitting at my desk, and Fred went out into the back yard. He bent over, examined the pile of nasty, and then
KICKED
IT
INTO
THE
GRASS.
I’m sorry, motherfucker, did I ASK you to nasty up the rest of the back yard? Did I? DID I?
That motherfucker.
But in any case, after all that, it still took me COMPLETELY by surprise to find a little disemboweled mouse under the dining room table.
I love my cats, but sometimes my cats are huge assholes. Sometimes I’d be willing to sell them all for $1.95.
Previously
2011: No entry.
2010: No entry.
2009: The excitement yesterday morning is that when Fred brought Hjonkie into the kitchen, he first hissed at the kittens (I had no idea that turkeys hissed!), and then he registered his displeasure by shooting out a great big Turkey poop on the floor.
2008: Who knew we’re such cranky motherfuckers?
2007: On my way back home.
2006: And I thought Fucker, at least they don’t leave me to cool my heels for over an hour without bothering to let me know they’re running late.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: These kids need someone to come organize their lives is what they need.
2002: “What the hell?” I said, amazed. How far could the fucking thing have gone?
2001: Gah. I’ve got that unsettling panic-causing “waiting for the other shoe to drop” feeling, and I don’t know why.
2000: “An E-scort. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of those. I wonder if they’re new.”
We found a dead mouse in our basement a month or so ago. We both kind of stood there and stared at it because we have haven’t had a mouse in our house the 13 years we lived here! I just had to admire it’s courage for even coming in a house with 5 cats!
That is definitely a brave mouse. Brave Mouse, RIP. 🙂
$1.95. Seems a little pricey I say. I tried to walk our neighbor cat home last night since it was about 10 pm, very dark and coyote time was starting. Little bastardo would not take more than a few steps and then would lie down and roll in the grass. I got him about 2 houses from his house and gave up. Said cat goes 20 pounds and is a huge ginger tabby. We love him, he visits our house most days. But swear to God, I try to save his life and he could not be more interested. I know he left the dead mole in the front yard for me also. Hmmmpph.
Oh, when you’re trying to get them somewhere and they keep flopping down and rolling around – simultaneously hilarious and infuriating!
Funny you two should say that as yesterday to my amazement I saw a street person with a harnessed and leashed cat and darn it if the cat wasn’t trotting along obediently like a DOG!
Sounds like you need a $1.95 cat booth at tha flea market!
YES! 13 cats for $1.95 is EXACTLY something you’d see at that flea market! 🙂
At least they’re dead. Ours bring the field mice in alive and then I have to catch them and put them out. Hate hate hate them (the mice, but sometimes I hate the cat, too).
I have a huge phobia about mice! Yet I couldn’t stop reading your mouse story or the comments because they were so funny! Ack, haha, eek, bawahahaha!
I have also stared too close, too long at a pile of what turned out to be mouse intestines/kidneys on my back walkway — I finally figured it out when I realized that the little dried up flower bud next to the pile was actually a mouse head. I guess it’s our fault for feeding the cats; they tear the mouse to shreds and decide eh, I’m not really hungry. Worst thing was the weird stick left in my hallway that was actually a rat’s tail.
With all the organ and testicle talk why is it that the lone tail image made me shudder and groan the most?
“I looked down and said ‘Huh. That looks like a Navy Bean. What’s a Navy Bean doing here on the rug in the front room? And why is it attached to something long and grody looking?'”
Bwahahaha. Only you, Robyn!
I guess I feel a little less badly about Ollie our old basset turning the patio into his private toilet so often these days. I know it’s his arthritis but yuck and stink in the heat. Still I’d rather clean that than guts. Elphaba is a house cat. She wants out but NFW. Got her as a baby kitten she really doesn’t know what she’s missing.
Where I live, no outdoor cat would survive more than one night. Coyotes and owls get them. It’s one of the first things a Realtor will warn people about when they consider relocating here.
So, when we went through a phase of finding squirrel innards on the front porch for awhile I was all WTELF? Goddamn wildlife is WORSE than so-called domestic cats.
I totally LOLed f’reals at your “WHERE’S MY GODDAMN WATER, KYLE?!” Fred was just being too serious. 🙂
That $1.95…is it before taxes or after? 😉
Shiny, veiny stuff that turns out to be guts on the kitchen floor? Been there done that. Actually, gagging as I write this!
http://www.buzzfeed.com/summeranne/best-dude-in-the-world-makes-a-giant-maze-tower-fo
You gotta check this out! There’s a making of-video too.
For whatever reason, I got fed the hell up with reading blogs about a year and a half ago, something to do with one if my fav bloggers (but not you even though you’re one of my most favorite) turning into an uppity bitch… And decided to stop reading ALL blogs for awhile. Well, that turned into almost 2 years, but I thought of you the other day and here I am, grovelling for forgiveness. I have some serious catching up to do, thank god I decided to send my kid to kindergarten a year early, right? Anyway, I’m thrilled to see you’re still up to the same old shit, literally. I missed the hell outta this blog and your furry friends!!