Tuesday, October 05, 2004
The Cowgirl By The Sea
These were on Bullards Beach, in Oregon.
I love texture and color.
I am draggin' my wagon. Is that a good metaphor? I sometimes fancy myself a cowgirl by the sea. Either I am being particularly expressive, or I need to read the possible side effects of the meds I was prescribed.
I'm sick. Moan. Sigh. Sniffle. Cough. Pity me. I still have all my regular complaints to keep me up at night. Still nauseous, still growing unwieldy and unable to find comfortable positions for sleep, or anything. And now I have this cold/flu nasty funk.
Ah... but the ants are disappearing! We made up the recipe that I posted last week, and it is working. There were about three tense days, because as it stated in the article the problem would get worse before it got better, and did it ever get worse. We had huge black swaths of hungry ants feasting at our buffet of sugar and boric acid. They were greedy, with insatiable appetites. This morning there was one ant crossing the kitchen floor. Just one. I squashed him, without ceremony.
Time to drag my wagon upstairs and supervise the children. I fed them. Now I need to teach them something, make them do meaningless tasks, and then nurture their spirits.
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To me, commenting on your blog is like scratching out the first scribbled misspelling on a pretty new notebook. Or the first door ding in our brand new car. I want to say, 'hey, I'm so sick, too!' or 'Pretty rocks!' but then I figure, why scribble all over the blog that I enjoy reading so much? I enjoy your musings. I'll refrain from commenting unless I am jumping out of my chair, dying to throw my two cents in. Go forth, fellow chicken lady, and entertain me... :)
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