2000-05-13
Dear Diary:

����It's my theory that worms are tiptoe-ing up to my composter at night and stealing all my compost. I have visions of them carrying it all away with tiny little worm wheelbarrows.

����I don't know how else to explain why we have had our composter for years and years now and have gotten all of about six shovels full of compost from the thing.

����We must pour at least the equivalent of a five gallon pail of fruit and veggie waste type stuff into it each week. The composter never fills up, yet it doesn't make a mountain of compost, either.

����Mysteries, mysteries.

����In other fast breaking news, the clouds have parted, the rains finally ended, and the animals have stopped walking around in twos. I was starting to wonder if I should surf the net for ark plans and or at least get a definition of a cubit in case Paul decided on a build your own effort.

Male hummingbird, zippiest thing on wings I've ever seen.����Too nice to be productive all day. Spent part of the afternoon outside by my pond where I got dive bombed by the Harrier jet of the bird world, a ruby-throated hummingbird. They're baaaaaaaacccckkkkk.

����These teensy high octane rascals are my feathered favourites. The males are jewel beautiful and incredibly territorial. They spend a lot of the day in aerial acrobatics chasing off competitors, chittering at the top of their little lungs. Testy little critters.

����They make my cats mental, of course. All that hovering, wings moving so fast they're a blur, makes them seem like a quick and easy snack. Kind of like watching Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner ... in that split second the cat makes the leap, the hummingbird reacts and rockets across the yard. You can almost hear them laughing.

����Lots of laughter coming up tomorrow for Mommy's Day. We're all bringing food down to my mom-in-law's to celebrate the occasion with a massive pig out. Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy.

����My spawnling is going to migrate home for the occasion and hang out with the parental units for a few days. Huzzah, huzzah, followed by more general happiness sounds.

����Have I mentioned that I must emit some sort of rays that sap her super powers? It's the oddest thing. This woman who can cook, clean, do dishes and just generally take care of herself at her apartment in Montreal is stripped of those abilities when she comes back home to the country.

����Mysteries, mysteries.

����All I can think is that it must be some sort of Mommy Kryptonite, eh.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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