It’s been raining like crazy since Sunday evening, but I am NOT complaining. I can’t remember the last time we had a decent amount of rain around here, and the garden desperately needed it. I’ve been watering every other day for the last week (and twice a week before that), but there’s just nothing like rain water to make a garden happy.
We went up to Lowe’s Sunday morning so I could buy a rain gauge. I’ve been wanting one for a while because knowing how much rain we’ve gotten seems like a handy piece of information to have (don’t judge me), and we found that there was one single rain gauge left in the entire store – and luckily, it was only $5. Between Sunday night and Monday morning, we got 2 inches of rain. I haven’t been back out there to see how much we’ve gotten in the last day, but it’s been raining pretty steadily.
Fred doesn’t care about any rain gauge, but he wanted to make a trip to Lowe’s for his own reasons, so he was happy to go with me. What, you ask, did Fred need to buy at Lowe’s?
A pool for the ducks, of course.
Saturday, we went up to Dog Days in Tennessee – an outdoor flea market (I took pictures; you’ll see ’em on Thursday) – and we didn’t get anything but ducks. Four of them. Rouen ducks, I am told, and we have no idea what the male-female breakdown is (with our luck, we’ve got four males – or four females, which sucks because you KNOW Fred Anderson wants him some baby ducks).
Meet Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Bob. Don’t ask me who’s who, they all look alike to me.
After we got the ducks, we went looking for something to use as a pond for them for the time being (we’ve got a guy coming to talk to Fred at some point about digging us a pond. Let’s see if this one shows up.), and bought a big Rubbermaid container. We got it set up, and it worked okay, but I thought we needed something a bit deeper since they could actually stand on the bottom of the container rather than swimming around.
Fred was skeptical that Lowe’s would have a kiddie pool, but I told him I was sure they would, and I was right. We got a nice little pool for less than $10, and Fred set it up right next to the Rubbermaid container.
(Side note: Who you think is going to be cleaning those pools out? Mmm hmmm.)
The pool worked out well, and the ducks seem to be happy enough. They hang out under the coop most of the time, coming out now and then to take a swim around the pool. They know the sound of scratch hitting the ground, and come out to partake of snack time with the chickens. They’re a close-knit little group, and spend most of their time clustered together, walking around (or swimming around) and chirping.
More duck pics on Thursday, of course.
Over the weekend, we watched all of Season 3 of Sons of Anarchy.
Now, there’s a character in Sons of Anarchy played by the actor Jeff Kober. Every time I see Jeff Kober’s name, I exclaim, excitedly, “Dodger!” because he played Dodger on China Beach, and OH how I loved me some Dodger. Fred has come to recognize Jeff Kober’s name as well, and now when he sees it on the screen, he says “Digger!”
Anyway.
So Jeff Kober plays Jacob Hale in Sons of Anarchy, and his character is the brother of Deputy Chief David Hale. This is made clear pretty early on when Jacob Hale shows up in the show, that the two of them are brothers.
We were watching, I kid you not, show number 11 of the 13-episode season (and this is not the first season Jacob Hale made his appearance – he showed up somewhere in Season 2), and Fred turned to me when Jacob Hale was on the screen.
“His name is Hale, too?” he said in confusion. “Are they related?”
Seriously. Just when I think that 60% of the show is going right over my head, I have to explain the most basic stuff to Fred, and I think I’m maybe okay. I’m pretty sure that he sits and watches the show and has a vague idea of what’s going on, but he’s also thinking about something else, so doesn’t catch the obvious things.
Last night, Fred was reading about the characters on the show, on Wikipedia.
“Huh,” he said. “Piney is Opie’s father!”
Sigh. “I know,” I said.
“Stahl’s first name is June!” he announced.
“That must be why her lover repeatedly called her ‘June,'” I said.
“Is Clay’s last name Morrow?” he asked.
“I imagine that’s why they answer the phone at the garage with ‘Morrow-Teller,'” I said.
I might not be one to talk, though. It was well into the season when I twigged that there was actually not a guy named Sam Bell who was in charge of the motorcycle club, that it was actually SAMBEL. I’m also pretty sure, back when we were watching the first season, I had to Google SAMCRO to find out that this Sam Crow guy wasn’t going to ever show up and kick ass.
The Peppers Gang is off to the vet tomorrow to be spayed and neutered. They’re just under three months old (they’ll be three months on the 12th) and even the smallest has more than made weight, so it’s time. Once that’s done, they’ll be ready to go. But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here for a little while longer – none of the Spice Girls or Ciara has been adopted yet. Adoptions did pick up on Saturday and there were several adoptions, just none of them were my girls.
(Fred is incensed that Clove, his little girlfriend, hasn’t been adopted yet. “Can’t they TELL what an awesome kitten she is?!” he says.)
These mice with the long tails are particular favorites among the fosters lately (Cilantro especially loves them).
I don’t know which I like more, the Ears of Concentration, or the stretched toes.
::SNIFF::
“What?”
Lucy, amazed by everything, always.
“What? We talkin’ ’bout you. Go ‘way.”
“Why you takin’ my picture, when you could be pettin’ me?”
Everett shows off his fearsome claws.
“What doin’, lady?”
Molly reaches for the feather teaser, but there’s no joy in Peppersville this evening. The mighty Molly has struck out.
::chomp::
Sugarbutt really enjoys hanging out on that shelf over the doorway between the kitchen and laundry room.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Ah can only deal with zee – how you say? – anguish by napping. A lot.”
2006: People Are Assholes.
2005: How do people, like, not curse? How is it possible? There are all these gaps in speech where you just have to put a “fuck.”
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: I think that, much like dreams, the only person interested in hearing the myriad details of drug stories are the people involved.
2001: I don’t use the “c” word lightly, y’all.
2000: No entry.