When I got an email from doudou (my blog friend), I went to her blog and saw this! I’m a bit emotional at the moment so I cried and laughed at the same time.
Thank you so much, doudou, for upside-downing my frown into a great big grin.
Dog’s breakfast
The other morning the dogs were playing around with something in the front yard that looked like a boot or an old football. On closer inspection, I got rather a nasty shock. It was a dead calf’s head (I think!)
Let me in!
Gutsy9 (the 5-month-old peachick I raised inside the house because none of our peahens were interested) is thriving outside now. He sleeps in a pen with the ducks, Zaruma and Tapper, but every morning I find him in the adjacent pen with the turkeys, Bubble and Baby Turkey! Oh well at least he doesn’t venture into the geese pen because Godfrey hates him.
As soon as I open the three pens to let them all free-range for the day, I am met with a cacophony of excited noises and then G9 actually sprints after me to the house and follows me inside.
Until today. Today I decided to say no to him, and tried to explain that his peacock poop is the reason. He wasn’t happy!
Oh and G9 is definitely a boy because our friend, Mike, who raises peas told me so. I’m not as thrilled as Anthony was when Ming was born and he yelled IT’S A BOY!
Secretly I was hoping for a little peahen – ha!
Baby birds
Gutsy9 isn’t quite sure about my mother’s weird canary, Andre, who I am babysitting while she is in hospital. Five months ago they were the same size!
Gold digger guffaws
When a young woman marries a man who is 23 years older than she is, the term ‘gold digger’ tends to fly through country towns such as this one, and sometimes insinuates itself into the gossip of all and sundry.
Ming was conceived on our honeymoon (March 1993) and born a very decent 9 months later (January 1994) but, by this time, I had already been labelled as a gold digger. I wasn’t happy about this but there was nothing I could do about it. Anthony laughed the gossip off, and so did I, eventually.
So imagine my shock when my friend – JL – informed me yesterday that she had recently heard a story from her brother-in-law (who is friends with the bus driver at Anthony’s nursing lodge) about me!
Me: What?
JL: Well the bus driver told N that they sometimes take the men’s group for a visit to a farm that has peacocks.
Me: Yes – it’s a wonderful arrangement because they bring tea and scones and feed the birds and it’s a great way of getting Ants home for a couple of hours.
JL: But the bus driver said that every time they come to the peacock farm, the young lady who owns the farm starts kissing and cuddling one of the residents – a bloke called Anthony – and she is all over him, obviously after his money.
Me: What?
JL: It’s okay, N. told him you were Anthony’s wife.
Me: Oh thank goodness – what must they have all been thinking!
I’m guffawing too much to go out for my daily gold-digging expedition!
Nose-blowing noise attracts nosy peacocks
Lately the peacocks have begun congregating outside my office and staring curiously at me through the flyscreen door. They’ve never done this before. They used to come to the back veranda door in the hope of bread but I stopped doing that ages ago when their poop began to replace the pavement.
Today I realized that their staring-at-me-through-the flyscreen-door-behaviour was due to my hayfever and the noise I make when I blow my nose. It almost exactly resembles their loud hoot-honking noise. They must think I’m calling them! Of course Gutsy9 is the first one to come running.
Roast duck and miscommunication
Zaruma is one of our two pet Muscovy ducks. We raised him from a chick. Then we got Tapper and raised her from a chick too and now they are a happily married couple. At sundown I always put them into one of the fox-proof pens and they now look after Gutsy9, the baby peacock, during the nights. (One photo shows Zaruma clearly; the other photo shows all three unclearly).
Anyway, onto the miscommunication part of this post: Anthony absolutely loves roast duck so the other day I bought two frozen ducks. Well, yesterday I defrosted them to cook tonight so I could be a bit ahead of myself for Easter lunch. So, at 6.30pm I told Ming I would join him to watch our favourite TV show as soon as I put the ducks in. At 6.35pm this was our conversation:
Me: Okay, the ducks are in.
Ming (watching TV): How the hell did you do that so fast?
Me: Well I got them ready to go, put a bit of salt on and no need for oil because ducks have a lot of fat.
Ming: Salt! They don’t need salt do they?
Me: Well it just makes the meal a bit tastier.
Ming: You put salt on their wheat?
Me: What?
Ming: They’re ducks, Mum – they don’t need condiments!
Me: Well I was going to use some pepper too.
Ming: What?
And that’s when we realized that he thought I was talking about Zaruma and Tapper. LOL!
LOL?
Laugh out loud
Leaves on lawn
Listen or leave
Loser of lottery
Lonely or lustrous
Lovely old leprechaun
Lack of love
Limping on limestone
Lard of lamb
Like or leave
Leaking old lesson
Leaning on legs
Laundering of loss
Long or lengthened
Lazy ornery llama
Lost or loved
Libido of lipid
Lecherous old lion
Lost or least
Lots of love
Laugh out loud!
I tend not to use LOL very much because, after all, it might be misinterpreted.
Yes, it’s been one of those days. LOL!
jmgoyder 