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Pink flags of doom.
Call it intuition. Fate. Manifesting gone amok. Regardless of the word or phrase, all I know is, when I set out on my daily walk Monday morning, I thought to myself, I’m overdue for something exciting to happen. There have been spooky eyes in the forest. Close encounters with brave baby fawns. But nothing too
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Mark 1, Squirrels 1/2
I’m happy to report that, one week later, no squirrel has managed to gain access to the Bird Buddy. Not for a lack of trying. The little bastards climbed the pole and chewed halfway through the plastic on the bottom of the baffle, leaving it dangling precariously. Another day or two, and they would have
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Too mulch time on my hands.
On Friday, the following alert popped up on my phone. Originally we’d planned on going camping over the weekend. I’d made the reservation last summer, but by the time May rolled around, we had way too much work left in the garden, so I reluctantly cancelled. I guess Google didn’t get the memo. Funny story:
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Squirrels are the new Tom Brady.
Tara was feeling bad about the gifts she got me last Christmas, so for my birthday in April, she went all out and got me a Bird Buddy. When I stumbled across the price online – and by “stumbled across,” I mean, intentionally Googled – I saw just how badly she felt. Yikes! For the
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Dirt don’t hurt but moving it does.
Our neighbor Brian loves to wander over for a chat. Great guy, and he’s often bearing gifts like freshly picked morel mushrooms or homemade jam, but get him going, and suddenly five minutes turns into an hour. We’re usually in the midst of yard work and have to hit the pause button. His wife, Linda,
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The Midwest Complacency Club
The past two days at work were devoted to New Employee Orientation. But wait, you might be thinking. Mark’s not a new employee. He‘s been at CheeseGov for six weeks and three days already! My sentiments exactly. But because CheeseGov is a big government agency constantly hiring new people for many different departments, they space
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Mark My Words 