I bought what we needed, what we wanted, came home, unloaded everything, did some more laundry, started the crock pot with venison back strap, garden potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic.
Took a nap.
When I woke up, Mr. Moon was already home and I had my iced espresso and finished up the laundry and finished gathering the eggs. Seven today and I feel certain that none of my old hens are laying which is fine with us. They are now officially pets. Ms. Bob, Ms. Sharon, Ms. Ozzie, Ms. Trixie, Ms. Mabel.
I probably rose from the dead because it's Friday and I didn't want to miss my Friday night martini on the porch. How sad is that?
Hey. Whatever gets you through the night.
I'm almost finished listening to Life, the Richards' autobiography, and the last few discs are read by "The maestro himself," as Johnny Depp said when his part was finished. I've listened to this audio book how many times? I don't know. And each time, I am knocked out again by the honesty, the humbleness, the humor, the intelligence of Keith Richards.
The chickens came up and I fed them leftover oat bran bread. Elvis is so magnificent.
We need rain and I feel as if when it falls I will be healed. Until then, I am doing well enough.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank Celexa, Ibuprofen, the Great Mystery Which Is Cats, Kathleen who brought me my first chickens, and the sweet, good compassionate person whom I am married to.
Gonna go make some banana muffins.
Quote of the day from Keith Richards: "I am not an arsonist. I am a pyromaniac."
Quote of the day from Ms. Moon: "Chickens are the best pets I ever had."