Friday, October 31, 2008

hawaii is

verdant.

It is very lush. Even in a "drought" one's eyes never cease swimming a sea of green.

fertile.

Everything grows. Everything. Including mold on my bicycle's bar tape.

And bountiful*.

There is fruit rotting on the side of the road. EVERY road. For instance, the other day I was invited to a young couple's home for dinner. So I grabbed a couple of cheeses out of the creamery and very carefully left them behind on my kitchen table. But no worry - this is HAWAII! On my ride over I simply scanned the roadside for fruit pulp (damn cars), espied some gravelly guacamole, and stopped to collect avocados. I found three that looked pretty smart and voila! I was again a considerate guest. (I also had a quick snack of guava, and snagged some lemons around the next bend).

...What is this "winter" of which I keep hearing? I remember it, as if a dream.


*I'm sorry if this word inspires in you visions of a sprawling suburban backwater. My intentions were to evoke "plenty" and "springtime" not "minivans" and "strip-malls."

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Here's Eddie!

Okay guys. I really should be banned from making videos. My narration skills are atrocious. I laugh at the most inappropriate times. Like after the word 'emasculation'. I breath heavily and I eat green beans into the microphone.

But at least it's Eddie! Enjoy!




'Tis true. Eddie is no longer fully male. He is a castrati. A eunuch. A neuter. A pansy. Then again. He's always been a pansy. - But he's been my pansy. 'Been' being the operative word. For the future of Eddie is not certain. (So Heather and Dick claim. I maintain "Eddie? Who is Eddie? Um. Those bleats coming from my trailer are the wind").

Which is why we whacked his balls. Excuse me. His avocados (as Dick insists I call them. I dunno. Must be a Hawaii thing).

...and those rather large craters you see on his head? That's where we burned his horns. Yes, we have heaped insult upon injury. And all of this so that he might live a long life as an obliging pet, rather than a short one as a curry.


Wednesday, October 22, 2008

ta DA!

...em, sorry. guys. I have been a busy little bunny. Yep. Sure have. And really a very content one. And, you know. It's 'lack of fulfillment' that spurs my creativity. Then there's that 'routine' thing. That spoils any fun. Sooooo. Yeah. I really have very little to tell you. Not much has happened - save the charming antics of the goats, their babies, and their farmers. (Like when were artificially inseminating a goat and Dick answered his cellphone and Heather yelled: "Get off your phone! We're having sex.")

But, yeah. No news.

Oh. Except for that cow I killed.

But more on that later. In the meantime, here are some goats:



I promise I'll get you some Eddie soon. SOON. I promise.

And yes. The girls did knock me over.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

hey pig piggy pig pig pig


Way over yonder
piggies do wander
eating their curds and their whey.
And so they do plunder
all slurping like thunder
the leavings of each dairy day.





...if you listen carefully you can hear Dick say to me: "You see? One of those males has a scrotal hernia."

Thursday, October 9, 2008

peanut

If you give a goat a peanut, she'll probably ask for another one.

And another one.

And another one.

And another one.

And she'll follow you around, asking for peanuts and chewing on the back of your shirt - assuming, it would seem, you to be made of them.

And this behavior will continue for time immemorial.

Or at least a week.

And counting.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

yick

Sometimes, when I wake up in the night, I pretend I can't hear the little rustlings and shushes coming from my kitchen (which is my bedroom, which is my house). Because I don't want to think about all those HUMONGOUS cockroaches shuffling across my countertop, (and probably into my fruit bowl, and probably over my clean dishes, and probably inside my silverware drawer, but NOT on my toothbrush. I'll tie the damn thing from a string in the middle of my trailer if I have to).

The other night I awoke to a clacking sound, and got to chase a rat off of my porch. It was trying to capitalize on my macadamia nut forages.

A rat. Read it backwards and it spells "tar A."

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

i hate babies.

I know I shouldn't. That it is against common decency. But I do. I hate them. I like mine. My baby. But I hate them. And you would, too. I'll explain.

Do any of you recall the opening sequence of the second "Jurassic Park"? Little girl, playing alone on beautiful beach. Suddenly emerges a little, harmless-looking dinosaur. She thinks it's cute; it - and all of its contemporaries - think she is lunch. And the horrific mauling begins.

Do you understand my metaphor?

Okay. How about this one: Piranhas. Got it? Good.

I mean, I change my clothes to feed the babies. I have to wear pants, a long-sleeved shirt, closed-toe shoes, and I should really consider gloves.

We feed them with a bucket (if you want design specificities, ask me later) in their pens. As I unlatch the gates one or another of them usually manages to get a good nip out of my knuckle. Upon opening the gate I crouch low, sweep my leg forward and out to knock the babies backwards and (hopefully) off their feet. Even so, no sooner am I in than I am surrounded and,
holding a sloshing bucket over my head, am forced to wade through six baby goats suddenly transmuted into the hordes of hell. I plow through them. Little goat bodies fly to the left then right, only to throw themselves immediately back into the fray. It is not gentle. There is blood shed on both sides. I am not proud. Each time there is a rout. But they are never defeated.

Because I have to do it five times. Three times a day.



But I sure do love Eddie.