more blips on the radar

I heard a story on NPR about a guy publishing a book which shrinks great works of literature into "tweet" length sentences. 160 characters (or somewhere in that ballpark). I think, sadly, that my blog will need to be that. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but it is also born of necessity for this busy farm girl! So...once again...things about which I want to write SOME DAY:

- Lou's beverage barn. The characters. The despair. The out of place counter top fit for a chic ski bar, but with very different liquor crossing its surface. The bottle return boy reading his customers by the bottles they return. For us: diet coke, poland spring products, microbrews, wine, and an occasional bottle of Tequila. For the man next to us: Miller high life and tab. Strangely thin interloper "Did you know Sam Adams Utopia is the strongest beer in the WORLD? It's like drinking 2 bottles of wine!" Completely busted witch woman "WHAT!? I ain't hear you. WHAT?!"

- I dreamed some idioms. Long dream short: loose horses, inability to get out the door because all I could find in my parents mudroom were two LEFT shoes, discovered nomadic conservative cattle herding women setting up camp at my house, this group turned into the conservative mormon clan from Big Love and I discovered they had let my horses loose when trying to put their cows in my pastures, they multiplied, and when I told them it was time to go, the mean leader literally BURIED HIS HEAD IN THE SAND. Dream interpreter, anybody!??!

- Madre for Governor.

- Summer camp. 90 degrees in a state not built for it. Productivity. Very limited chances to "just be." Trials. Boys clubs of lawyers and judges. Weddings. Busy. Busy. Busy. Busy.

AND...I am a now a bonafide horse trader.

The end. Goodnight!
Farm Girl

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pobrecito

We said goodbye to Poser last night. He is posted on here as my "legal cat." He was my dude kitty. The fat tiger. My very favorite of our brady bunch of cat families collection. The only one I didn't mind sleeping on our bed. And for some reason, he decided to nap on the road last night. Dearest TT stepped out to look at the almost full moon and saw the car come around the bend. Yuck. Maybe I shouldn't have favorites. Or boy tiger kitties. They don't seem to make it very long. Rest in peace little fat kitty, Poser. Maybe you'll meet John Hughes.