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First post of the new year, hmm...
I have a church that I love.
And a couple of friends.
A pig skull in the maceration tank.
What more could there be?

Tequila.

Suck Theory

Does your dog Suck? Probably!
Take a look at this list of Suck Symptoms and see how many you have to deal with.

Chewed shoes
Chewed DVDs
Inexplicably sticky stuffed animals
Chewed carpet
Chewed couches
Torn up toilet paper
Scratches on your arms
Scratches on your belly
Inexplicably sticky socks
Holes in the backyard
Holes in the backyard fence
Holes in the neighbor's dog
Holes in the neighbor's cat
Holes in the neighbor's child
Tipped over trash
Unstoppable Barking
Inexplicably sticky guests

How can the Suck be stopped? First we need to understand what is is, and why it grows. Suck is the natural destructive tendency that resides within every dog. The ratio of Suck to Non-Suck can vary between individual dogs and breeds, but it is increased by boredom, insufficient excercise, mental stagnation and overfeeding.
Acceptable levels of Suck vary, depending on the personality of the dog and the owner. A Border Collie has a naturally higher ratio of Suck to Non-Suck, and when paired with a middle-aged individual with no family who enjoys dog dancing and flyball, the level of Acceptable Suck will be very high. Fondness for sequins and matching doggie-owner outfits can lead to toxic levels of Suck, fatal to any small birds that happen by.
People with no tolerance for Suck are encouraged to avoid dogs altogether, or be Cesar Milan.
For most people, acceptable Suckiness would involve a 1:20 shoe chewing ratio, minor damage to hidden parts of the furniture, or bi-annual counter surfing as long as it's something really irresistable. How do we achieve these goals? Let's take a look at how suck progresses in a normal dog that's left alone during the day.



As you can see, Suck levels grow all day long, resulting in wanton destruction and mischief. Suck peaks at the exciting time when the owner returns to find their computer cables have been eaten and their teddy bears violated, then drops off sharply during the evening walk. Bed time comes soon after,and the cycle begins anew.

Here's what happens when the dog is crated.




Suck levels rise apace, briefly alleviated by the discovery of a kong, until once again, they peak with the arrival of the owner and the beginning of the evening walk.

The problem with both of these scenarios is that the dog is left in a high state of Suckiness all day, which makes an unpleasant homecoming for the owner. Stress is increased if there is anything to do in the evening other than walk the dog such as studying, entertaining guests, or housework. Ever tried to vacuum up the shards of an antique crystal tchotchke that your dog smashed after he knocked over the bookshelf in an effort to climb up and get a spider off the ceiling? How about doing it while the dog is attacking the vacuum cleaner? It SUCKS.

The obvious solution? MORNING WALKS.



That's SCIENCE, people.

What I've been doing

I finally lifted that second bobcat skull out of the peroxide; he's been in there since the beginning of June, so he's a little crispy, but white like you would not believe. He looks great. And I managed to find all of his teeth but those four little fiddly ones that go in the front of his lower jaw. I took the raccoon out of the maceration tank yesterday and moved him into the degreaser; Boy was THAT a revolting mess. I poured it over the flowers and they seem to like it. The tea rose turned extra-dark within hours. None of the teeth had come out (yay!) so I had to pry them out with my fingernails (ick!).

I have been nordic-tracking regularly, and I feel awesome. Also the diet is going pretty well...We had a brief moment of weakness involving bacon-wrapped jalapenos last night, but we're back on track. I think I will fit into my spiffy new jeans soon, which will be a day for much glee.

W went to a homeschooler farmer's market yesterday, which was pretty cool. I got some blueberry-lime jam, a bunch of veggies, and some goat milk soap. I also got my name put on a waiting list for cabrito. I'm trying to figure out how to cook it in the oven still, but maybe it would be better grilled.

I think that's it.

The Wall

Walls, actually. We have walls! A ceiling! Woo-hoo!




The pics are all craptacular because the flash on my camera is broken and I had to take these with my phone. Still, you get the general idea. Drywall applied horizontally to the beams, etc. The guy who's putting them up is super fast, like contractor lightening. He brings his wife and daughter over to help him mud, which is kind of cool.

Mah Skirt

Frag of the Flies

You know when you hear about the plagues of Egypt, and you got your blood, and boils, and death, and then you hear "flies" and you're all like "Flies? Seriously? Way to phone it in, God. Flies." And then one day you wake up and your house is actually full of them? Like a giant floating seething buzzing CLICKING for God's sake bunch of flies? And then you begin to appreciate just a little more how much of a punishment flies really are?
Well, it happened to me. I've had my problems with vermin before, admittedly, but my house has been almost sanitary these past few months so it really seemed unfair when I walked into the boy's room and it looked like a scene from CSI where they find the body of a dead guy three weeks after he died. Did you know that flies are LOUD? I can hear them through the walls. They have no fear of me, I can hear them giggling as they avoid my sweeping shoe attacks. Normally I can keep them out of the house by putting a stick of incense by the open door, but they've become bolder; organized...EVIL.
So I went out and armed myself with the weapons of the ancient hippies; patchouli, a stick of sage, and matches. I went from room to room, 'smudging', as the instructions call it. You light the stick of sage until it smolders, then in each corner of the room you blow on it until it belches out a thick cloud of pot-scented smoke.

You should have seen the destruction. Most were struck down in a daze immediately, crawling feebly for whatever escape they could find. Those that retained the power of flight suddenly discovered that they COULD fly in a straight line, usually directly away from me, sometimes splatting themselves amusingly into the walls. A couple flew directly into the smoke, and were immediately received into fly heaven, which I imagine is somewhere in India.

There are only a few hardy souls left, buzzing forlornly around the house in search of their loved ones; families, friends, maggots, all struck down in a single evening of tragedy, their thriving poo-based civilization gone forever, sponged from the history books, never to be duplicated, the descent into obscurity illuminated only by the poisonous fumes of patchouli oil burning long into the night.
It's a sad day if you're an evil disgusting chitinous bastard.

Marching Song

By Robert Louis Stevenson



Bring the comb and play upon it!
Marching, here we come!
Willie cocks his highland bonnet,
Johnnie beats the drum.



Mary Jane commands the party,
Peter leads the rear;
Feet in time, alert and hearty,
Each a Grenadier!



All in the most martial manner
Marching double-quick;
While the napkin, like a banner,
Waves upon the stick!




Here's enough of fame and pillage,
Great commander Jane!
Now that we've been round the village,
Let's go home again.