Believe it or not, I still have the internet. In the month of May, we got connected at long last to HIGH SPEED internet. This spring also saw the opening of a sushi restaurant in the town of Kincardine. Folks, it is a brave new world for us out here in the boondocks.
Our farm is on the market. We’d need to get every penny out of the asking price to make a move possible, a feat which I am personally
praying wagering won’t happen. I don’t really want to talk about it. Try spending every minute of your spare time fighting a major corporation (Samsung) and various levels of government (municipal and provincial) in an effort to protect your family, knowing that you would probably see better results if you smashed your face off your driveway. We don’t have enough money lawyers to look scary like we can affect change, and I don’t need to spend anymore time wondering who I need to metaphorically shiv in the shower to get these motherfuckers to back the fuck off my farm.
Where was I? The internet. “We can has the internetz” now. We can watch simple videos on YouTube without it buffering for an hour and a half. I can download TV shows on iTunes, and music too. I also can use INSTAGRAM! If you want to find me online, that’s where I am. The community there is pretty cool, at least my little bubble is pretty awesome. My feed contains pictures of random cute dogs, hairless cats that belong to every other tattooer I know, doodles of penises, and hot girls. There’s no whining in pictures. I like it.
We’ve had a bad go with raccoons this year. It was an easy winter, which means that the less fit coons survived, which means they are sickly bastards with distemper, breeding and being jerks left, right and center. Distempered, they become zombies. Slow moving, and remarkably resilient to death, despite existing on the brink of it.
Late one evening we heard a melee in the coop, Scott ran out in only his underpants, brandishing one of my rubber boots. Two laying hens were already dead, and a third was stuck halfway through the electro-net, being semi-electrocuted with a jolt (and a buCK-AW!) every couple of seconds. My knight in shining underpants freed the hen from the net, before turning off the energizer. As a result of the attack, my hens are refusing to lay eggs in their nest boxes. They burrow themselves into the straw under the boxes. This is not a relationship I can work with, so we’ll be taking steps to block off the bottom.
Coons also made off with Maggie’s rabbit, who happened to be quite possibly the Cutest Rabbit in Existence. A dwarf hotot the size of a kiwi.
Being an artist, as well as a sharpshooter (first place in standing and prone competitions), I came home one afternoon to find this fly covered installation art piece in my front lawn.
It’s little gestures like these that keep the spark in our marriage.